A Malfoy By Any Other Name
by greyeyes0
Summary: Eighth year. The return of Harry's year group also brings a new class - English. And they're performing Romeo and Juliet. When a seething Draco and mortified Harry are cast in the main roles, Harry thinks things can't get any worse for them. But can one play end an eight year rivalry? Or do even more..?
1. Chapter 1

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter One**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate." _**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

It wasn't a surprise, not really, mused Harry Potter as he gazed at the new sign on the Gryffindor noticeboard. It read-

_In light of recent events, the school curriculum will now include more Muggle aspects, to promote and teach equality between wizards, witches and Muggles. _

_The new changes are as follows; Muggle Studies is compulsory for all to O.W.L. level, and the subject of 'English' will be taught to all as of this year. English promotes good literacy, which is beneficial to all. The subject will mainly focus on teaching eloquence, grammar and traditional literary pieces. _

_M. McGonagall. _

There were noises of outrages and dissent in the common room from many. Harry noticed a few people looking pleased, however none more so than Hermione Granger, who was beaming and quivering with excitement.

"A new class, Harry! 'Eloquence, grammar, and traditional literary pieces...' I can't wait!"

"Fantastic." Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "Yet another N.E.W.T. class we have to study for."

Hermione didn't seem to hear however, she was busy consulting a timetable. "Wow, we have it every day, first thing!" She looked as though Christmas had come early. Ron groaned, but quickly turned it into a hacking cough, after Hermione's quelling look.

"Who do we have it with?" Harry asked.

"Professor Daley.. I've never heard of them. They weren't at the Welcoming Feast were they?" Harry and Ron shook their heads, neither as interested in the topic as Hermione was.

"Oh, dear." Hermione said suddenly.

"What?" asked Harry apprehensively, glancing up.

"We're having the class with the Slytherins."

"Fuck off." mumbled Ron.

.-.

At Hermione's insistence, they were the first in the classroom the next day. Curiously, the chairs were in rows of four, with no desks in front. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. They took three chairs in the back row, ignoring Hermione's protests.

The classroom slowly began to fill up with Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. There were far less Slytherins in the school this year, as so many had left the school after the war, whether willingly or not.

Harry and Ron had noticed gleefully the night before that Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson had not returned for their final year of magical education. In fact, the only familiar eighth year Slytherin that had returned was Draco Malfoy.

Harry had not spared him much thought at all in the few months that had followed the war - only to think of him somewhat pityingly. His parent's murders were no secret, and Draco, at age eighteen, was both an orphan and the last in the line of Malfoys.

When the English professor finally entered the classroom, considerably later than even the latest students, the final seat in the back row, next to Harry, was the only vacant one.

"Good morning, good morning, sorry I'm late class, I-" But the poor professor was interrupted by the opening of the door as a familiar figure slouched in, casually biting an apple, as if being twenty minutes late was completely normal.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway for at least ten seconds, surveying the class with cold, grey eyes. The class watched, with bated breath, as the professor got visibly more irritated by the second.

Finally, Malfoy swaggered down the classroom, apparently heading towards Harry, who had realised too late that he was beside the only vacant chair. Malfoy collapsed into it, and lounged comfortably there, swinging his feet up to rest on the back of the chair in front of him, to a girl's annoyance.

He did not seem to know or care that a lesson was in session, and that he had just interrupted it.

At the front of the classroom, Professor Daley recovered herself, and wrote a word on the board which was completely foreign to three quarters of the class.

"Can anyone tell me what this word means?"

"Shak -ee- spear - ay?" attempted Parvati Patil. There were several guffaws of laughter.

Hermione's hand had, of course, shot into the air. Professor Daley nodded at her.

"Shakespeare, or to use his full name, William Shakespeare, is considered to be the greatest playwright England has ever had. He wrote hundreds of plays, which are still famous today." she recited, sounding as usual as if she had learnt it from a book.

Harry was, of course, completely familiar with Shakespeare, but Ron was frowning in consternation.

"Excellent!" beamed Professor Daley. "10 points to Gryffindor! Can anyone name any of these plays?"

"Macbeth!" called Dean Thomas.

"Hamlet!" said Lavender Brown.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream!" Hermione added, unable to stop herself.

"Romeo and Juliet." Harry added, quietly.

He saw Malfoy's head twitch slightly beside him.

"Who the hell are they?" asked Ron, baffled.

"Well done, Mr Potter! Romeo and Juliet! Our project for this year! As part of the Ministry's new initiative to bring equality between Muggles and our kind, you shall be learning, and performing the ultimate Muggle love story!" she announced, beaming.

Several girls, including Lavender Brown and Hermione sighed happily. Harry heard Ron, and many other boys groan.

He thought he could just make out Malfoy muttering "Ridiculous." as well.

"The star crossed lovers! Two households, both alike in dignity!" quoted Professor Daley, with a look of rapture on her face.

"You what, miss?" scoffed a Slytherin boy.

"The story of Romeo and Juliet - surely everyone knows it?" She noticed blank faces, and hurried on.

"Two rival houses - not much different to Gryffindor and Slytherin-" she noted thoughtfully, to general jeers. "The young male heir of Montague house-" Harry noticed Malfoy move suddenly again, "-falls in love with the young female heir of Capulet house. But their houses are forever at war with each other, and they must keep their love a secret. 'My only love, sprung from my only hate!'" she quoted dramatically.

Malfoy had now sat bolt upright in his chair, with a peculiar look on his face, that Harry couldn't place. Malfoy glanced sideways at Harry, and their eyes met for the first time for months.

Harry half-expected a sneer, but one didn't come. He and Malfoy had been through an awful lot; Harry had been to his manor after all, where Malfoy had saved his life, Harry had then wrestled his wand from him. In turn, Harry had saved him from the FiendFyre when he could have just left him.

He had witnessed this boy clinging desperately to his waist, hollering in his ear to fly faster, as the flames licked around them. As Harry looked at him, he was sure Malfoy was remembering the same thing.

They didn't just share school boy rivalry anymore, it would seem.

Harry was brought back to earth with a sudden jolt, when Professor Daley called his name, and he wrenched his gaze from Malfoy's, and his head snapped to the front.

"Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy!" she was saying "If you could please pay attention! It would seem you find each other far more interesting than Romeo and Juliet!"

"Hey miss, maybe they could be your Romeo and Juliet!" someone shouted, to many catcalls and jeers.

Professor Daley, however was considering this thoughtfully. Harry felt a feeling of dread wash over him. Oh god, no...

"I wonder.." he heard her say. "From rivalling houses and families.. Dark and light.. Old history.. Ancient grudge break to new mutiny... Yes." she seemed to have reached some conclusion, unaware that no one had understood what she had been saying.

"Yes I think that would be perfect." Harry gazed at her, horror struck, dimly aware of Ron sniggering next to him, and Malfoy retreating as far back into his plastic seat as he could.

"Mr Potter, I'd like you to play my Romeo, and Mr Malfoy, you'll be my Juliet. Ancient grudge, break to new mutiny indeed." she rubbed her hands gleefully. Ron snorted.

"Are you fucking kidding?!" Malfoy said loudly.

Professor Daley gaped at Malfoy, who looked utterly disgusted and shocked. Harry wouldn't have at all surprised to hear "My father will hear about this!". Except Lucius Malfoy was now dead, he remembered.

"Mr Malfoy!" she exclaimed, recovering herself. "Such language will not be tolerated!"

Malfoy laughed sarcastically. "Do you really think I'm going to star in some poncy muggle love play? With Potter? This is a joke." he added, sneering.

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you." said Professor Daley quietly. "You _will_ play Juliet."

Malfoy sat up suddenly, strands of blonde hair falling into disarray and into his wide, angry eyes. "Juliet?!" he let out a laugh which completely lacked amusement or humour. "I'm not playing a fucking girl, _miss_. In case you hadn't noticed, there's a whole class full of them."

"No, no!" Professor Daley interrupted, rubbing her hands gleefully. "This is exactly how Muggles traditionally acted out this play! Girls weren't allowed to act-" Hermione exhaled loudly and angrily. "-so a boy would always play Juliet! This play will be completely traditional and true to its original form!"

"So Potter and Malfoy have to be gay together?" a Slytherin boy said incredulously, smirking. The classroom burst into laughter, and Malfoy blushed an angry red.

"Certainly not." Professor Daley said, flustered. It would seem she sensed she was losing her control on the class. "They are just acting. And the kisses and er- sex scene-" Laughter erupted through the classroom, and Harry buried his head in his hands. Ron's sympathetic pats on his back were rather ruined by his sniggering.

"-the sex scene.-" repeated Professor Daley louder still, "will be approached- er- tactically. It will, of course be all acting..."

Malfoy leapt out of his seat at his point, and throwing Harry a look of deepest disgust, he stalked haughtily out of the room.

The class immediately broke into "_Ooooh_"'s and "_Get you!_"'s. Once the babble had finally subsided, Professor Daley hurriedly handed out more parts, assuring the girls they would get just as important parts as the boys - she just wanted Juliet to be a boy.

"Who are you?" Harry asked Ron in an undertone, who was staring baffled at his script.

"Some bloke called Mercutio?" he offered, scratching his head.

"Good one. You're my best friend." Harry informed him.

"I know I am?" Ron said, confused.

"In the play, you plonker. You get killed by Juliet's cousin, and when I avenge you I get kicked out of town."

"Oh. Wacky story this." Ron commented.

"It gets worse." Harry promised. "Wait until you hear the end."

"Why? What happens in the end?"

"Juliet takes a potion that makes her appear dead to everyone, so she doesn't have to marry this bloke called Paris, only Romeo doesn't get told it's a fake potion, and thinks she's dead. He drinks some poison and dies. Juliet wakes up a second later, and stabs herself 'cause Romeo's dead."

Ron's mouth had fallen open. He closed it wordlessly, blinking at Harry.

"That's... twisted. A Muggle wrote that?

But where's the moral?"

"Moral?" Harry laughed. "Why should there be a moral?"

"All wizarding stories have one.. The story of the Three Brothers obviously, Babbitty Rabbity and her Cackling Stump..."

"Nah, most Muggle stories don't have one." Harry assured him.

Hermione bounded up at that moment, beaming.

"Who're you?" Harry asked, a little grumpily. He was still sour about being Romeo.

"The Nurse." Hermione smiled happily.

"That's gr-" Harry began, but was cut off by Ron.

"A sodding nurse? Hah- I'm Mercutio." he boasted, drawing himself up proudly.

Hermione stared at him, and gave an angry _hmph_, before stalking off.

"What did I say?" said Ron, astonished. "Women..." he muttered, shaking his head.

Harry nodded his head, absently looking at the door Draco had ran out of.

"Yeah. Women..."


	2. Chapter 2

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Two**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**_**  
**_

It took only a few hours for Harry to settle back into the tedious, repetitive routine of school lessons, and to join Ron in sinking into a stupor at his desk which neither Hermione's hissing nor teacher's lectures could penetrate.

In the long periods of daydreaming Harry had that day, his mind constantly returned, unbidden, to the English lesson that morning. More precisely; Draco Malfoy in the English lesson that morning. He recalled the strange, sideways look he was issued at the mention of Romeo and Juliet. The way Malfoy had sat bolt upright at the mention of Romeo, the male heir.

This bit he could understand easily; Malfoy identified with Draco as he too was an heir to an ancient family's fortunes.

However, he had known Malfoy for eight years, and even for him his reaction to Professor Daley was over the top. He'd constantly insulted Hagrid in Care of Magical creatures, but these were snide, whispered insults.

And although Harry's years of sharing classes with Malfoy were liberally sprinkled with "My father will hear about this!"'s, they were normally provoked by something a little more exciting than a Muggle play.

By the time Harry was in his last lesson, Charms, he had concluded that it was he that Malfoy had an aversion to, not the play. He hated Harry so much that the idea of merely acting with him, never mind as 'lovers', was outrageous.

Harry felt a bit stung by this. After years of hating him, he thought they might have been able to let it drop, seeing as they had saved each other's lives in a war together.

He remembered all too clearly the frightened, drawn Malfoy in Malfoy Manor, who was so uneasy about identifying Harry and giving him up to the Death Eaters. He'd betrayed the side he was on to save Harry's life, and yet he could so easily revert to type and resume hating him the minute he stepped back into Hogwarts.

Frankly, Harry found it ridiculous.

Not that he was thinking into it much, he assured himself. He'd barely given the incident a second's thought.

.-.

_Thump!_

"Morning," grinned Ron, throwing another customary pillow at him. "Italio." he added, sniggering.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked blearily, rubbing his eyes. His scarlet Gryffindor bed hangings swam lazily in front of him.

"Your big part! Italio!" Ron repeated it, still grinning broadly.

"Ron... It's Romeo." Harry said weakly, scrabbling over his bedside table, searching for his glasses.

"Knew it was something to do with Italy.." Ron grumbled, ignored Dean's snorts.

Harry swung his legs heavily over the side of the bed, rubbing his soft, clean shaven jaw. Ah yes, he thought bitterly. The first day of The Boy Who Lived rehearsing his new starring role. He could barely wait for the Daily Prophet's article.

"Have fun getting off with Malfoy, Harry!" Seamus called, who had a tie knotted around his head, for some inexplicable reason.

"You jealous?" Harry heard Dean question teasingly. He kept his gaze fixed on the stony floor. He knew that what was coming wasn't the type of thing he wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

"Nah.. I prefer me boys more.. Gryffindor." Seamus replied, and there was a loud squelching noise. Harry winced, and was eternally grateful for Ron's weak, "Stay away from me then, Seamus... And please save your bloody kissing until later. I'm about to have breakfast."

Harry risked a glance over at Seamus to see his body contorted weirdly around Dean's. He hurriedly jumped to his feet, calling "Wait for me, Ron!"

He skidded down the circular dormitory steps after Ron. Ron turned around in surprise, and laughed when he saw Harry. "Harry, mate, you're still wearing your pyjamas."

Harry glanced down at his outfit. A scarlet, short-sleeved top stretched over impressive muscles, which Harry thought somewhat made up for his lean figure. A pair of tatty black jogging bottoms.

"I'm not going back in there." he said, shuddering. "God knows what they're doing in our absence. Plus, I think the people of Hogwarts have seen me look a lot worse than this."

Ron snorted but said nothing more. Harry shivered as his bare feet hit the cold stone floor of the common room. Ron glanced down.

"Harry, you don't even have any socks on."

"Well done for noticing." Harry snapped. Noticing Ron's slightly stung expression, he grumbled "I'll live."

The corridors were deserted as all the students were in breakfast. Harry was so comfortable in his attire that by the time they had arrived, he had forgotten how unusual it was. He was therefore surprised when he was shot some very curious looks in the Entrance Hall.

He looked back over his shoulder at the curious students as he opened the Great Hall door, therefore failing to notice there was already someone on the over side of it, until they collided painfully.

He swore and rubbed his forehead, squinting had who he had walked into. The first things that swam into vision were the narrowed, irritated eyes of Malfoy. They were raking his peculiar outfit, and a disdainful sneer curled up at the corner of his mouth. Harry renewed his grip on his head.

"Something wrong with the scar, Scarhead?" he spat, and strode away without a glance back.

Harry stuck his finger up at his retreating blonde head, resenting how Malfoy could walk away from a collision so coolly and haughtily when Harry was clutching his throbbing head and cursing.

Harry hurried quickly into the Entrance Hall, following Ron. He sat down with a long exhalation of air, which caused everyone in the vicinity to look up. And then laugh.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, her eyebrows in her hairline. "You can't wear pyjamas to breakfast!"

"Deal with it." Harry grumbled, reaching for the porridge.

"Hey, don't take it out on her-" Ron interjected, but Harry was no longer listening.

.-.

As a consequence, Harry was left quite alone in returning to the Gryffindor tower after breakfast. He slowly and tiredly changed out of his pyjamas, not at all hurrying the process of putting his uniform. Finally, he pulled his work robes on over his jumper and slung his school bag over his shoulder. He glanced carelessly at the clock on his bedside table and swore extremely loudly.

He had paid dearly for his lazy changing; he was somehow ten minutes late to class. He catapulted out of the room and sprinted flat out of the tower to English. He knew he had forgotten something, but he could hardly help that now.

He arrived panting two minutes later, barely listening to Professor Daley's admonishment. He weaved his way as quickly as possible through the rows of four, his eyes trained on his row at the back.

He noticed Hermiome's nose twitching in disapproval, Ron's sympathetic grimace and finally, Draco Malfoy's raised eyebrow and look of cool indifference.

He slumped in his seat with a heavy sigh, completely ignoring Professor Daley as she patiently tried to explain the story of Romeo and Juliet to those who had never heard it.

He looked to his left to see Ron had resumed staring into space with a dazed expression, as usual assuming Hermione would fill him in later.

On Ron's other side was Hermione, scribbling furiously, to no one's surprise. Harry shook his head; Hermione probably knew the story better than anyone in the class, being Muggle born.

Harry flicked his eyes away from his friends, a tiny bit to his right. He could see two long trousered legs resting on the back of someone's chair. He couldn't help but feel exasperated; did Malfoy just naturally lounge, no matter where he was?

He moved his head fractionally to look at Malfoy fully. He was staring at the stony wall next to him, completely hiding his face from Harry. Harry hoped it wasn't intentional. This class would be hard enough without Malfoy deliberately shunning him.

"...so if you could all get out your scripts,we'll start reading through the play." Daley's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Where from?" Seamus called, flicking through his script.

"There's no place like the start!" Daley said chirpily. Harry rolled his eyes at her naïve optimism. That she really thought a reluctant class of eighteen year olds were going to put effort into Romeo and Juliet was laughable.

Harry's hand combed the the bottom of his bag for his script, but only came up with a few crumbs and pieces of fluff. Fuck. That was what he'd forgotten.

"Uh... Professor Daley?" he called sheepishly. "I've.. forgotten my script. Can I sit this reading out?" Beside him he heard Malfoy cough something that sounded very much like "_typical!"_.

"No! You're our Romeo! You can't just sit it out!" she said, aghast. "You'll have to share with.." her eyes briefly flickered between Ron and Malfoy, on either side of Harry.

_Please pick Ron, please pick Ron_, Harry silently pleased.

"..Mr Malfoy."

Harry sighed.

"Fuck off, _Potter_." Harry heard Malfoy mutter, as usual putting extra emphasis on the 'pot', so his name was spat in a way that made it sound like an insult. Harry supposed some things never change.

He scowled at him. "I'm not delighted to have to use a script that's had your ferrety hands over it, either." he retorted, satisfied when Malfoy's pale face coloured red.

"Boys!" Daley reprimanded. "You're going to have to spend a lot of time together this year. That means getting _along_. You'd better start _now_."

"Fine." they both muttered, determinedly not looking at each other.

"Good." Daley beamed. "Right, can I have the following people to the front for the Prologue and Act One Scene One: Narrator,Sampson, Gregory, Abram, Benvolio..." her voice droned on but Harry quickly tuned it out.

He shifted towards Ron, where they kept up a whispered commentary of everyone's acting, and snorted at some of the poorly delivered lines and over-the-top acting. They got increasingly louder as the scene went on.

It was only when Harry was shaking with laughter (ignoring Hermione and Daley's scandalised faces) that he caught sight of Malfoy sitting quite alone at the edge of the classroom, watching expressionlessly as Harry and Ron continued to giggle.

Harry instantly felt a jab of something; pity? He, Harry, may not be the luckiest boy in the world, but at the end of the day he still had his friends to unwind and joke with.

Malfoy? Malfoy was quite alone in the world. Malfoy had nobody.

**Recently, I heard that one point it was in the script of Deathly Hallows Part 2 for Draco to shout "Potter!" when Harry reveals himself to be alive at the end, and runs away from hisparents, across the courtyard, to Harry, throwing Harry his wand so he can fight Voldemort. I cannot tell you how much I love this. **

**EDIT: If you're interested this scene was actually filmed with the actors, and up on YouTube - the video is called "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Unreleased Extended Scene - Voldemort's Speech" and it was uploaded by 'MrLeakedtrailers'. (with many thanks to AstrisDreams who alerted me to this)**

**Reviews make me happy:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Three**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

"Enter, Romeo." Professor Daley dictated, not turning her face from the script she was scrutinising. When nothing happened, she repeated it again, a little louder.

Harry was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he failed to notice; in fact it took a sharp poke from Ron, who's silent peals of laughter had finally ceased, for his attention to be drawn.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"To the front, Mr Potter!" Professor Daley sighed exasperatedly. Harry slowly heaved to his feet and slouched to the front, ignoring the dirty looks Lavender and Parvati were shooting him. It would seem they had replaced Professor Trelawney as their idol.

Harry stood at the front aimlessly, looking at Seamus who looked just as bored as he did. Daley looked tiredly between them.

"Well? These lessons aren't just for you to stand there! Who's line is it? Benvolio?" she appealed, turning to an alarmed Seamus.

Seamus glanced down at his script and muttered, "See, where he comes, so please you, step aside, I'll know his grievance, or be much denied."

Harry bit back a laugh at Seamus's monotone as a tall Slytherin- Theo Nott- read his line.

"I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away." He scowled at the floor as he shuffled off, accompanying a beaming Parvati.

"Now this is the bit where you walk up!" Daley gestured to Harry. Harry blinked at her. "But I already walked on?" he asked, confused.

"No, that was you entering, dear." Daley corrected. Harry stared. "Exactly, so how can I do it again?"

Daley sighed. "There is a difference between entering the stage, and actually being on the scene." she said, as if stating the obvious. "The script said 'Enter Romeo.' Not 'Romeo walks up.'"

He still didn't understand, but decided just to let the issue lie. He took a few, exaggerated, moonwalk steps back, to the appreciation of Ron, Dean and Seamus. He walked back up to Seamus.

"Good morrow, cousin." Seamus muttered.

"Stop, stop!" Daley interrupted, waving her hands in frustration. "Put some effort and enthusiasm into your lines, Mr Finnigan! Add some gusto please!"

Seamus smiled apologetically."I'll be enthusiastic, miss." he promised, and Harry noticed the glint in his eye, and smirked.

"Good morrow, cousin." Seamus practically shouted to Harry, his Irish accent more pronounced than ever. Harry wondered if he could thicken his accent on will.

"Is the day so young?" Harry replied, sounding somewhat flat after Seamus.

"But new struck nine!" Seamus said loudly, pronouncing nine as 'noin'. Harry saw Daley wince.

"Ay me! sad hours seem long.

Was that my father that went hence so fast?" Harry recited, looking out of the corner of his eye whilst he spoke. He saw Ron had acquired his usual glazed look. Hermione was watching the rehearsal keenly.

Pausing only to speak another line, Harry's gaze drifted to Ron's other side, and found himself irritated to see Malfoy idly folding paper into some complicated origami animal. He clearly wasn't paying the class the slightest bit of attention.

He could at least have the decency to watch me speak, Harry thought. He did not notice the bitter edge to his thought.

"In love?" Seamus's enthusiastic, overly loud shout brought Harry back to the ground. Harry checked his script.

"Out-" he said, waiting for Seamus to finish his sentence, as the script dictated. Instead he found Seamus staring at him. "It's your line." Harry hissed.

"But you never finished yours!" Seamus retorted. Harry pointed to the script.

Seamus grinned sheepishly.

"-Of love?" he yelled back, apparently compensating for his lack of concentration with volume. Harry sighed.

It was going to be a long hour.

.-.

Harry had been glad that the rest of the school hadn't learned of Romeo and Juliet yet. His luck didn't stretch to that lunchtime, though.

"Romeo! Romeo! Where for art thou Romeo?" a voice called as he, Ron and Hermione descended the swivelling staircases.

"Ignore them." Ron muttered. "At least you won't have Malfoy making snide comments this time. If anyone's got it worse than you, it's him."

"Thanks, Weaselby." Harry heard a voice sneer, and he and Ron were shoved aside as a familiarly pale, tall boy pushed through and descended the stairs ahead of them.

"Oops." Ron said, surprised. "Appears out of nowhere, doesn't he?"

"At the worst possible moments." Harry agreed, his eyes following the white blonde mop all the way down the staircases until it was no more than a white dot.

"Where's Juliet?" Zacharius Smith jeered as they entered the Great Hall some minutes later.

"Up your arse." Harry retorted automatically. Perhaps it wasn't the most original comeback in the world, but it seemed to do the job.

"I don't understand why people care so much that I have a part in some class play. I really don't." Harry sighed as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione shook her head almost pityingly at him. "What?" Harry asked, irritated.

"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, in the same smug tone she normally reserved for pointing out the blatantly obvious to Ron or Harry.

"You're the Chosen One." she said, and Harry could practically hear the italics. "The Wizarding Saviour. The Boy Who-"

Harry held up his hand. "Ok. I get it."

"You're the wizarding world's biggest celebrity." she continued. "Everyone in this hall owes their life to you-" Harry rolled his eyes and she sighed impatiently.

"Well it is true!" she said defensively. "So naturally, when the biggest celebrity in the world is cast as 'Romeo' the most romantic man EVER, people are going to be interested."

"Ah now, whoever said Romeo was the most romantic man ever?" Harry said, faking wonderment. "Because they clearly never met Ron here." he said, clapping Ron on the back. Hermione snorted, but Ginny, who was sat further down, let out a high pitched laughter which continued for a good few seconds.

Harry gave a small, awkward smile, before hurriedly staring at his plate.

Ginny was beginning to make it perfectly clear she wanted to pick up where they left off. Only they couldn't. Harry knew that.

Ginny had changed after the war- and that was hardly her fault, who hadn't- but in more ways than one, and Harry found he didn't particularly like the new Ginny.

The old Ginny was wonderfully fierce, outspoken, brave and fiery. But now, she seemed to think this was no longer appropriate after what had happened. Harry had found she had changed herself to be more quiet, simpering and girly.

Frequently she would pull out the chair he was going to sit on at the table, and would wait for him to be sitted until she sat herself, like some absurd waiter.

In other words, very un-Ginny. Harry could only imagine where he would have been told to shove it if he had asked the old Ginny to do such a thing every meal time at The Burrow.

The war seemed to have took all the fire out of her. And the girl that was left behind? She wasn't for Harry. He had no doubt she would be perfect for someone out there.

But not him.

As Ron and Hermione descended into a bicker over who was more of a wizarding celebrity; Gwenog Jones or Wilbert Slinkhard, Harry found himself quite alone, so he let his eyes wander over the typical lunch scene.

The Gryffindor table was second from the right (from the High Table's point of view), as it had been for a few years, and Harry was sat facing the two tables on the left; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

As Ravenclaw was closest, Harry observed it first, over Hermione's shoulder. He knew shockingly little people in Ravenclaw; only Luna Lovegood and -at a push- Terry Boot.

He looked for Luna, who he had become more and more fond of in recent months. She seemed to know just what to say to drag Harry out of his depressive, mournful moods which occurred frequently after the war.

She was not present at that time, it would seem, so Harry instead looked past the relatively quiet Ravenclaws to the Hufflepuffs, who he realised he knew even less of. He recognises Ernie McMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, but that seemed to be it. When Ernie's somewhat serious eyes seemed in danger of meeting Harry's, he hurriedly looked away.

Having his back to the final table, the Slytherins, Harry was unable to observe them without it seeming suspicious. When he spotted Hermione and Ron engaged in something other than arguing however, he rapidly changed his mind, and turned around.

Ever since third year, Malfoy and Co. had sat in the middle of the Slytherin table, approximately opposite Harry and his friends. This apparently created an excellent opportunity to shout insults and send sneers, as they soon found out. Harry recalled in particular, the first night of third year, when Malfoy had specifically called his attention away from Dumbledore's speech just so he could taunt Harry about the Dementors.

Fat chance of that happening now, Harry thought somewhat morosely. Malfoy now sat on his own, amongst younger years, with his chin resting on his palm and a miserable look on his face. Harry found he missed the shouts and threats.

It was in this exact position that Harry found him today, picking moodily at an apple. He appeared to bend over it, and start peeling the bright green skin off. Harry watched as strands of white blond hair fell into his eyes, and he realised he had taken to wearing it how he used to, in their fourth and fifth years, when he was younger and free of Voldemort's overbearing presence.

It was cropped but with a side fringe that constantly swung in his eyes, and was familiar to Harry. It was definitely different from the severe parting he had glimpsed in Malfoy Manor.

He shook himself suddenly. What was he doing? Had he really just spent two whole minutes thinking about Draco Malfoy's _hair_?

"I need a hobby." Harry muttered.

.-.

A week of rehearsals passed, and Malfoy never moved from lounging in his plastic chair, never once speaking to or looking at anyone.

Harry felt irritated by this for several reasons. Mainly because he felt he was up and down and up and down all lesson. By the end of Friday's lesson, they had fully practiced two scenes, and neither Ron nor Hermione not Malfoy had been up on stage. But for some reason, Harry didn't feel as irritated with the other two as he did with Malfoy.

"Your homework is to learn your lines!" Professor Daley called out weakly as they stormed out of the class room.

"Like fuck I will." Harry heard someone mutter, and he turned around in surprise, a mean feat considering he was being crushed in all directions by a horde of students attempting to fit through one doorway. He saw that he was correct; it _had_ been Malfoy that had spoken. Malfoy noticed him staring.

"Problem, Potter?" he asked venomously, the alliteration making the sentence sound doubly as insulting. Harry couldn't think of what would be the smart answer to that. Malfoy glared at him, before readjusting the tie around his neck, and strutting out haughtily.

Harry stood still, looking after him for a good twenty seconds, before he remembered he needed to be in Transfiguration.

Even as he arrived, he still had no idea why his feet had been unwilling to move; why what Malfoy had said had compelled his brain to be devoid of any clever answers.

He could hazard a guess though, and it was staring curiously right across the classroom at him.

With grey eyes.

**Please review, as they are a massive help!**

**Half Blood Prince was on British Tv yesterday, and oh wow did Tom Felton look good. In my opinion, it's the best film as it really allows Draco's character to develop, and we see a more compassionate side of him. But that's just me:)**

**Tumblr-Greyeyes0 for chapter previews and notifications (and general HP)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name **

**Chapter 4 **

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury." _**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

He was doing it _again_.

Potter was staring.

It seemed to be all he was capable of; Draco wasn't really surprised that Potter could barely string two words together, especially not to Draco. Heaven forbid the _saviour_ should associate himself with an ex Death Eater.

And yet here was, having stumbled in late, looking across at Draco. Like he had when they had left English. Like he did _every_ English lesson, when he thought Draco wasn't paying attention. Even when he was saying his lines he was still staring at Draco out of the corner of his eye. It was like sixth year all over again. Potter hadn't known Draco had noticed his surveillance _then_ either.

Draco didn't dare think he did it out of genuine interest. Like every single fucking person in this school, he was watching Draco carefully as if he might suddenly start shooting Killing Spells. Just because he'd been forced into that lifestyle... Oh god, I'm not going down that line of thoughts again, thought Draco.

No, Harry Potter clearly felt it was his duty to keep an eye on _dangerous_ Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter, forever the protector.

Whilst Draco had thought this, he hasn't realised he hadn't looked away from Harry. God. He dropped his gaze and followed the scratches in the desk with his eyes.

It was just embarrassing to be caught staring someone, never mind the boy he was supposed to be completely opposed to. His enemy. His opposite. The Yin to his Yang.

It was almost poetic,really. Out of a school of over 500 students, Harry and Draco had found each other in first year, and marked each other out as equals. No other pupil even came close. When Harry was shunned for entering the stupid tournament, it had been Draco who had been waiting in the tree to taunt him.

When Draco had broken down in the bathroom about that bloody Bell girl, it had been Harry who had confronted him. Against all odds, it was always the other one finding him at a pivotal moment. Almost magnetically.

Like he said, poetic. As if it had been deliberately written for some poem. If it was a poem, the theme would be 'contempt'. Draco knew it. Well, from Potter's point of view it would be.

And on the top of all that, even after saving each other's lives, they'd only been paired together as fucking Romeo and Juliet. As _lovers_. How ironic considering Draco had been in love with Harry since age eleven.

Which was exactly why he couldn't be caught staring at him.

.-.

As they left Transfiguration, and Harry shot him another glance as Draco swept by, something snapped.

"I'm not a fucking liability, you know." he spat, before storming away with his heart thumping. He heard outraged voices, of course; he'd fucked with Harry Potter - fuck with him and you get the whole school by default. Funny, he didn't think he could hear Harry's voice amongst them.

It was lunchtime. Not that this was particularly a relief to Draco. It wasn't as if he had friends to talk to, or relax with. Just like in lessons, he was alone. At least during lessons no one bothered him.

Sitting with older years attracted snide comments and jeers, and although Draco was more than capable with giving as good as he got, and willing, it was just easier to sit with people too young to know what he'd done. Too young to know they should hate him by default.

It wasn't even as if food held any interest for him. It was overly hot, overly rich and he hated the sickening sheen food often had. He missed the house elfs's cooking at the manor. He usually just ate an apple here, by far his favourite food. He was wasting away, he could see that somedays when he looked into the mirror. He was past caring; there was absolutely no one left in the world to look presentable for.

He'd even let his hair grow past the short cut he'd been maintaining recently. It made him more look youthful. He was sick of looking in the mirror and being reminded of being sixteen and seventeen.

There was an outbreak of laughter in front of him, and he didn't need to look up to know it was the _Golden Trio_, with their fucking perfect lives. Granger and Weasley were even a couple now. Draco briefly thought of Pansy, and what her reaction would have been. He pushed that thought away. How's that for a fucking happy ending for them.

Nobody cares what happens to the bad people in fairytales. As long as good triumphs, the lessers can just fade into the background. Bad people didn't get their happy ending. Draco included.

.-.

Another day. Another rehearsal.

Draco rose early as usual, to avoid making contact with anyone else, particularly happy Gryffindors.

There had been no room for Eighth Years in the usual common rooms, so they'd been given their own one, an unused room and dormitories in a far flung tower.

Draco was only in the tower when he was sleeping; otherwise he avoided it at all costs, which he knew suited every one fine. They'd all seen Voldemort hug him. They all knew which side he'd been on. He was the one that let _Death Eaters_ into their precious castle, after all. Draco might as well have a sign around his neck: 'avoid at all costs'.

Draco shook himself; thinking such morose thoughts was hardly productive. But he couldn't help it; he usually went entire days without talking to any one - an internal monologue was inevitable. With no one to distract him, his thoughts spiralled into dark areas more often than not.

He walked down to breakfast slowly. He wasn't wandering, he assured himself; he may have lost many things, but his Malfoy aura was not one. He still sauntered and strutted around the castle haughtily, pushing past people rudely. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. He suspected it was so deeply ingrained in his body that he couldn't stop it if he tried.

The only people in the Great Hall were the young, eager mini Granger's, who considered a moment not learning a moment wasted. It was like this every morning, and meant that for the most part, Draco could sit where he wanted without being disturbed. He was tired and irritable as a result of his early risings, but it was worth it.

Older years started trickling into the hall all too soon, and Draco turned his gaze down to the table. He felt someone push past him, and his body jolted into the side of the table painfully.

"Watch it, arsehole!" he snapped at a smirking sixth year. Who did he fucking think he was? It was Draco's job to push past people and smirk like that. When did he turn into the victim and not the perpetrator?

"You going to make me?" the boy asked, with a raised eyebrow. Draco drew out his wand.

"Yes I fucking am!" Draco snapped back. This was good. A fight might distract him. He had raised his wand when he felt a hand tug him around. He raised his fists up, ready to punch which ever of the boy's friends was trying to distract him.

It was Harry Potter. Naturally.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco snarled. But he already knew. Harry Potter, the famous saviour of the underdogs. He had come to the sixth year's aid, like an overbearing guardian angel. Draco told Harry as such.

"No I didn't, you tosser." Harry snapped back. "I came to save _you_. You say you're not a liability? You're about to prove everyone right and make yourself a liability, unless you stop."

Fuck, he was right. Draco stared furiously at him, grey eyes boring into calm, green ones. He lowered his wand and put it back into his robe pocket. He slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Thanks, _Potter_, but I don't need to be saved by you. I think you've lost on this one. Fuck off." he added for good measure, sneering. He stalked out of the hall. He still had half an hour before English, and now he had nowhere to go.

He walked aimlessly until he found the alcove on the seventh floor he had sat in so frequently in his sixth year. Near the Room of Requirement. He sat in there, his bag nestled in between his legs.

Draco thought longingly of life when he was younger. Life seemed so easy; go through school, find a suitable girl, marry and produce an heir. The end.

As far as school life was concerned, that was easier too. He had many friends, and was at perfect liberty to taunt Potter whenever he wanted, without being considered a danger to him. He thought back to third year, playing out scenes in his mind as he did so many times in English, for lack of other things to do.

_They were standing in the paddock for Care Of Magical Creatures. Draco was __scoffing at their biting books. "I think they're funny." retorted Granger._

_"Oh, yeah. Terribly funny. Really witty. God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears that Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes." Draco replied coolly, turning to Crabbe and Goyle for their appreciation. _

_"Ha ha ha ha!" Crabbe guffawed. _

_Draco watched as Potter got visibly more irritated. _

_ "Shut up, Malfoy!" he said warningly, walking threateningly past Granger and Weasley, up to Draco. Draco smirked and started up a mocking "Ooooh!" He turned to Crabbe and wordlessly let his bag drop into his hands. _

_Draco swaggered forward, still smirking like the confident, self assured third year he was. He met Potter's eyes as they stood a foot apart. They were so close he could see the lighter parts in Potter's eyes. He could see every freckle and mark on his face, including that stupid scar. Hm. _

_But he couldn't stand here staring forever, much as he may want to. He faked panic and stared at the leaves above Potter's head. _

_"D-D- Dementor! Dementor!" he stuttered, pointing and staggering back. He saw, with satisfaction, Potter whip around in panic. _

_The Slytherins, led by Draco, burst into laughter. Draco impulsively heaved the hood of his robe over his head, and was pleased to see his friends follow suit. "Oooooh!" he called, pretending to be a dementor, and they did the same. Spasms of irritation crossed Harry's face and he smiled in satisfaction. _It was so easy to wind Potter up in those days.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that.

.-.

Draco settled into his normal position in English; feet up on the back of someone's chair, head tilted away from Potter. He vaguely wondered when it had been that they could sit in chairs next to each other and not curse or insult each other. Probably during the war.

"Mr Malfoy?!" Are you even listening?!" a voice exclaimed. Draco blinked; he had glazed over again.

"What?" he snapped at Daley. This lesson was even worse than when the werewolf had been teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. He hadn't known that was possible.

"This is scene three!" she said, expecting this to be enough to prompt Draco. He scowled at her. She sighed impatiently.

"This is where Juliet first comes on." she said slowly.

Fucking hell. This was an absolute disgrace. He, Draco Malfoy acting as a Muggle girl in a Muggle play? He began to suspect there _was_ a God. A God that was clearly on the side of Harry Potter.

Draco gracefully slid out of his chair and sauntered to the front, scowling all the while. Daley shrunk back a little at his fierceness, especially when she realised she was about a head shorter than him. It paid to be tall, Draco thought smugly. He joined Brown and Granger on the stage.

"Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me." cried Brown. Draco rolled his eyes. Some people just couldn't act. But apparently not for lack of trying.

"Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady bird! God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!" Granger read.

Draco had to credit her; she read it well. Not that he had much to compare her to; so far her and Brown were the only people he'd bothered to listen to.

Everyone on stage looked at him expectantly. He scowled back.

"Mr Malfoy it's your li- where is your script?" exclaimed Daley. She really was ridiculous, Draco thought.

"_He_ borrowed it in the first lesson." he said, nodding towards Potter, who looked sheepish.

"I've- er- still lost mine, so I'm still using his." Potter told Daley, steadfastly not looking at Draco. As if he cared. Daley sighed yet again. "Share again then, boys."

Draco felt a strange shiver as he watched Potter walk over and hand him his script. He didn't forget to sneer, but it was only halfheartedly. Some days it was harder than others to pretend he only hated Potter, and nothing more.

When he'd received his script, he read in a monotone, "How now? Who calls?" There was absolutely no way he was putting any effort into his lines. That would teach Daley. Hopefully she'd replace him.

"Your mother." Granger told him. She looked at him somewhat apologetically and Draco knew why; she was worried. Worried for _his_ feelings. Stupid Gryffindor. As if he couldn't cope with the word 'mother' seeing as his had died a few months before. Whatever.

Draco visibly rolled his eyes. "Madam, I am here. What is your will?" he said listlessly.

Brown spoke up enthusiastically, almost cutting off the end of his sentence in her haste. "This is the matter: Nurse, give leave awhile, we must talk in secret...

Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age."

Draco gave Daley and the room at large an evil look at the last sentence. He did not need to be reminded he was playing a pretty daughter, no matter how handsome he suspected he was.

"I can tell her age unto an hour." Granger spoke coolly.

"She's not fourteen yet." Brown spoke. Draco spluttered.

"_Wait_. She's fucking thirteen? _Thirteen_? I'm not playing a fucking thirteen year old girl! I thought she was at least my age! You said there was a sex scene!" he accused, staring at Daley, who quailed under his stare.

"Well-no- this was old times, remember- quite acceptable for a girl to be married and have children by that age..."

"This is fucking _sick_." declared Draco. He saw Potter smirking at the back of the classroom.

"Something funny, Potter?" he demanded. He felt a thrill of adrenaline when Potter stood up, matching his glare.

"Yeah. You. Acting like a petulant little child, as ever." Potter said, his green eyes flashing. Draco tried not to look at them. They were dreadfully distracting.

"Is that right?" Draco drawled. He was thoroughly enjoying this. Unless he was mistaken, Potter was too. Draco could see the entertained gleam in his eyes. It would seem these familiar insults were a relief to him, too. Draco drank in the sight of Potter staring at him unabashedly with _those_ eyes trained on him. They were standing straight opposite each other.

Yin and Yang reunited once more.

**I thought it would be interesting to write an entire chapter from Draco's point of view, so here we are. Draco uses a lot of italics, did you notice?:)**

**reviews are loved. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Five**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

Adrenaline pumped through his brains.

Harry stood stock still.

He had no idea why he had challenged Malfoy. He didn't know what had possessed him when he had jumped to his feet, antagonising the paler boy.

One minute he was watching him kick off about being Juliet _again_, the next minute he was on his feet, watching as Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously at him. It was like earlier.

The first thing he'd seen when he'd entered the Great Hall for breakfast was Malfoy squaring up to some sixth year. It wasn't as if it was anything to do with him, but he had found himself hurrying over, ignoring Ron's weak calls for him not to interfere.

Even now he couldn't explain why he had wanted to stop Malfoy from making a prat of himself. Normally he'd take delight in it. But this time, he wanted to stop it, save Malfoy from the repercussions.

Ron must be right. He really did have a saving people thing. And pretty badly it would seem, if it had even extended to saving Draco Malfoy from trouble.

"Look, Malfoy." he said now, in a warning tone. "You'll have to play Juliet whether you like it or not. So stop being a dick and just get on with it. Believe me, I'm not happy about being your bloody lover either." The class sniggered appreciatively. Malfoy, inexplicably, flushed a faint pink.

"Is that so, Potter?" he sneered. "Do you want me to grow long, red hair? Become impoverished? Grow dirty masses of freckles? Will I be more to the precious _saviour_'s liking then?"

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about-" Ron began angrily, but Professor Daley seemed to have unfrozen at the prospect of trouble, as she had earlier, and was now intervening.

"_Sit_ down, Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy, you do realise your actions are ridiculous. I cannot condone them. 20 points from Slytherin."

Harry almost smirked. Not because Malfoy had got points taken off him, but because he knew Malfoy wouldn't give a stuff about points, and wouldn't be afraid to say so explicitly. He wasn't disappointed.

"Do you think I give a _fuck_ about house points?" he asked in an exasperated voice. Professor Daley stared at him, apparently unsure how to handle the situation.

"Mr Potter," she said finally, turning to where Harry was slumped in his chair. "Please escort Mr Malfoy to Headmistress McGonagall's office. She'll decided what to do with him."

Harry saw Malfoy give him a look of loathing, of course he would not take well to being shepherded around the school by Harry Potter. Harry averted his gaze and instead left the classroom without a look back. He stood in the stone corridor outside.

When the door swung open and Malfoy swaggered out, Harry was forcibly reminded of the time Malfoy walked up to the Hippogriff 'Buckbeak' in such a manner. He had the exact same challenging look on his face.

Harry found himself thinking almost wistfully of the time, but he had no good reason for doing so. His life was clearly better now; no threat of Voldemort hanging over him, and his career just around the corner. He had no reason to feel wistful.

"Hurry up then," Harry said shortly, for lack of anything else to say. He glanced at the boy walking along side him out of the corner of his eye. His face was impassive, although his eyes were still slightly tightened in a menacing way.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked along in silence. He reflected that, had this been two years ago, he wouldn't have made it this long without uttering a curse.

Malfoy seemed used to the silence, and was not apparently bursting to break it, as Harry was. Of course, he wouldn't have any friends to talk to, he'd be used to silence.. a voice in Harry's head added. When the awkward silence became too much, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"So, Romeo and Juliet, huh?"

Malfoy turned to look at him for the first time, his eyes narrowed. He looked forward again, saying nothing.

"Lots of lines to learn." Harry said. What was he doing? Why was he acting so desperate? he mentally fumed.

He watched Malfoy roll his eyes and quickened up his pace to strut further down the corridor without looking at Harry. Inexplicably, old familiar rage swelled up inside of him.

"_Look at me!_" Harry said loudly, irritated. He watched as the sleek, blonde head turned to look at him.

"What the fuck's up with you, Potter?" he sneered.

"I'm trying to make conversation." Harry snapped, catching up to him. "You're deliberately not answering. It's like you're trying to pick a fight with me."

"Maybe I am." Malfoy replied casually, as they climbed the moving staircases.

"Bloody hell." Harry muttered. "No wonder you don't have any friends." He was surprised when he found himself shoved against the stone banister, Malfoy's long fingers around his throat.

"No, Potter. I don't have any friends because I'm _dangerous Death Eater Draco Malfoy_. Not one part of me advertises friendship does it?" He hissed quietly, his breath hot on Harry's face.

Harry glared at him. He knew he should be making a smart answer round about _now_, but his brain couldn't formulate an answer. He definitely needed more sleep if it had come to this.

"And who's fault is that?" he said quietly, and he watched as Malfoy's pale eyes widened in anger. He knew he'd hit the spot.

"Contrary to popular belief, Potter, not mine." he replied, his white teeth uncomfortably close to Harry's nose. He hadn't realised how tall Malfoy was.

"You think I _wanted_ any of that?" he asked, shaking with anger. "I was _forced_ into it by my fucking father. He was failing, and I was the punishment."

Harry knew this, of course he knew this, he hadn't observed Malfoy for a year to know he had been extremely scared and reluctant to follow in his father's footsteps. He'd seen through his visions that Voldemort tortured Malfoy. He'd seen which side Malfoy had stood on, without his parents, when Harry was thought to be dead.

But it was the first time Harry had combined all these thoughts to come to the conclusion that perhaps Malfoy shouldn't be treated as he had been - a danger. He was really just a boy.

So, much to the surprise of Malfoy, he had dropped his eyes to the ground and muttered, "You're right. I'm sorry."

He felt Malfoy's long fingers unwrap from his throat, and heard the clacking as he took several steps back.

"I'm _what_?" he heard an incredulous voice say.

"Ok, don't push it." Harry retorted, moving his aching back off the stone banister. "Let's go back." he said, gesturing towards the way they had just came.

"I think you're forgetting something, Potter." Malfoy sneered, pointing towards McGonagall's office. His pointed face clearly displayed disbelief as Harry shook his head.

"Daley won't know if we didn't go."

Malfoy watched with narrowed, suspicious eyes as Harry ran a hand through his wild hair. "And why would you _do_ that for me, Potter?"

Harry looked at him for a long time, conscious that all the portraits hanging on the wall behind Malfoy were watching him just as intently as the pale boy himself.

"Who would I have to fight with if you got kicked out?" he said finally, giving him a tiny, half smile. Malfoy looked at him with round, clear eyes, the only movement being the rising and falling of his chest. Finally, he smirked back at Harry.

"You wouldn't have anyone." he agreed.

.-.

In the days that followed, Harry did not once speak to Malfoy, and was somewhat disappointed when the tall boy settled into his seat without so much as a look at Harry, as usual. The only contact they had were the few times he would look up from his meal to see Malfoy's pale eyes watching him - but if he blinked, they would be gone, and he could never be too sure it was he they were looking at.

He couldn't imagine why it would be. Malfoy hated him, surely he would have better things to do than watch him. Perhaps he was hoping Harry would meet his gaze, and he could sneer at him?

The looks stuck in his mind a while, but he couldn't ponder on them for too long; the amount of homework they were being given was so large Harry was working late into the night. In fact, the first few, weak rays of sunlight were creeping into the common room on Friday morning when Harry just finished his Potions essay. He hadn't even been to bed yet.

Seeing that it was 5.30am, and far too late to even attempt sleep, Harry suppressed a yawn and headed out of the common room, intending to have the earliest breakfast he'd ever had at Hogwarts.

He didn't expect to see a single person in the Great Hall, and so was surprised to see a number of bright eyed first years, fresh from a good night's sleep, whereas it still felt like night time to Harry. He _definitely_ didn't expect to see a familiar blonde sitting alone at the Slytherin table, and he stopped in his tracks.

Was this a coincidence? It seemed no matter which meal he was at, Malfoy would always be there, scowling at his plate and occasionally at him. Even getting up at 5:30 wouldn't shake him, it would seem.

Harry's curious was thoroughly piqued at this point, and he impulsively walked over to the Slytherin table. A voice in his head (Hermione's) was begging him to stop, what good did approaching Malfoy _ever_ do him? But he carried on.

He cautiously slid in next to Malfoy on the bench, who's head jerked up in surprise.

"Potter?" he spat. He looked as tired as Harry felt; his normally perfect, sleek hair was mussed up and swaying in his eyes. Harry was once more reminded of an early hairstyle of Malfoy's - the way he had looked straight after the battle, when Voldemort had called him over. Harry had no idea how he knew this, or why Malfoy's former hairstyles were imprinted in his memory but it would seem they were. He hadn't even been conscious of observing Malfoy's hair at the time. It must have been subconscious. Hm.

"Malfoy." Harry replied casually, picking up a piece of toast off the stack.

"Can I ask _what_ you are doing sitting here?" Malfoy asked tiredly.

"You're the only person here I can talk to." Harry shrugged, gesturing with his toast to the first years. Malfoy's nose wrinkled in comprehension.

"Ah, a last resort." he said, almost bitterly.

"You're not my last resort." Harry said. "He is," he pointed towards a first year, who was licking chocolate spread of his fingers. Malfoy smirked in reply, and Harry got a warm feeling he couldn't explain. Suddenly, a random thought occurred to him.

"Oh and while you're here, I just wanted to remind you that Romeo and Juliet is not an excuse to go shooting your mouth off at Rita Skeeter again."

Malfoy smirked and turned to look at his plate. "Yeah. Well. Stories about crazy Potter were fun to spread."

"I'll get my own back, one day." Harry promised. He was surprised at how easily this conversation was flowing. He found himself enjoying it. How strange.

Malfoy's smile dropped. "I think the Daily Prophet has written enough stories about me recently, don't you?" he said, the bitter tone returned. Silence fell.

"Why are you up so early?" Malfoy asked suddenly, sounded curious. Harry looked at him in surprise. He hadn't know Malfoy was capable of taking an interest in him for genuine reasons.

"I haven't been to bed yet." he confessed. "Why are you here?"

"I'm always here at this time." Malfoy said, turning away to let his white blonde fringe fall as a curtain between them. "I don't like being in the tower when other students are awake."

Harry frowned, and pity surged through him. He was glad Malfoy couldn't see his face, for he'd probably get beaten for his reaction. Malfoy had it harder than he had previously thought. He did an excellent job of hiding it, what with his behaviour in class. A true Malfoy to the bone, it would seem. Ever hiding behind a confident mask that disguised the hopelessness within.

Malfoy seemed to sense he'd let on more than he'd wanted to, for he quickly jumped to his feet, and hurried out of the Great Hall, ignoring Harry's calls. The last Harry saw was the flash of blonde hair whipping round to look at him.

**Reviews?**

**EDIT: A few hours after this was published I realised I'd accidentally included a character from one of my other stories. Safe to say I have edited the passage out now, and I can only apologise for the confusion caused. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Six**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

Harry sat motionless at the Slytherin table even long after Malfoy had left. It had been surreal to sit and have a normal -but brief- conversation with Draco Malfoy.

He had been so close to that pointed face that he could see a freckle on his jawline, the prominent cheekbones which made him look so infamously arrogant, and just how dark his eyebrows were in contrast to his snowy white skin.

He'd never been that close to Draco Malfoy's face and not sunk a fist into it. After eight years of arguing with someone, talking to them normally felt alien, and Harry reflected on it and Malfoy himself for over an hour, oblivious to the Slytherins's irritation and everyone else's confusion as he remained at their table.

It was only when he saw Ron and Hermione walk in that he realised with a jolt what had just happened. He'd spent an entire hour, and he guessed more, thinking about Malfoy.

And inexplicably, it didn't end there. Harry found that every time he grew bored and his thoughts wandered, they would always end up on Malfoy. It was déjà vu. Exactly like in sixth year - he had spent most of his spare time trying to figure Malfoy out. And now he was doing it again.

Worse still, it was subconsciously, most of the time, and it was often only after ten minutes or so that Harry caught himself at it. He was frankly worried. He had even taken to raking the student body in corridors to see if he could distinguish a singular white blond head from the others.

In sixth year, his excuse to be so preoccupied was that Malfoy was acting suspiciously and he was sure he was a Death Eater. (he had turned out correct) He had no reason to be so focused on him now, however.

The next Friday morning, one week after Harry and Malfoy's early morning conversation, Professor Daley seemed to be quivering with excitement when Harry and Ron slouched into English.

"Looks as if someone got some last night." Harry muttered into Ron's ear. Ron snorted.

"Who would want to do her?" he whispered back, and Harry was still chortling as he sat down in his usual plastic seat. The one on his right was unusually devoid of Malfoy, and Harry wondered if he was skipping class.

The door swung open a few minutes later and Draco Malfoy strutted to his seat in his usual haughty style. Daley beamed, and Harry felt a weird urge to do the same.

"Ah, good, you're here! I was beginning to worry... well never mind, you've arrived now!" she called to Malfoy, who stared at her stonily.

"Today is a very exciting day in terms of our play!" she informed them through a simpering smile so wide it looked painful. "Romeo and Juliet-" she flourished her hand at Harry and Malfoy, "meet for the first time!"

Harry groaned internally. He knew fine well, as did Malfoy, that the first time Romeo and Juliet meet, they kiss. He risked a subtle glance at Malfoy to see he was utterly frozen and impassive. Harry wished the mask would slip, just for once, and he could understand for once what was going on in his head.

"Well let's jump straight in, shall we?" Professor Daley asked, apparently unfazed by their lack of enthusiasm.

"Please tell me, Mr Potter, that you have your script..? On the day both you and Mr Malfoy will need to be on stage at the same time...?"

Harry's heart sunk. Shit. He shook his head, and received a reproachful look.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Detention if you do not have the script on Monday." Daley told him, unusually stern. "Right, well let's start- Scene five, the Capulet's party, so we need Capulet- yes, you Mr Thomas- Tybalt, Miss Bulstrode that's right, and Romeo, Juliet, party person number one and Mercutio."

Harry followed Ron to the front of the classroom.

"Mr Malfoy, can you stand away over their, talking like this, yes that's right. _So_, Mr Thomas, this is your party, and you are standing in the background like- _so_, when you hear Mr Potter asking Mr Weasley who Juliet is, Miss Bulstrode realises he is a Montague and therefore a gate crasher, she warns _you_, Mr Thomas but you let it slide.

Then all but Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy leave the stage as they meet for the first time. Okay?"

Harry blinked. Dean nodded slowly.

"Off you go then, Mr Potter!"

"What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?" Harry read to Ron, holding one side of the shared script whilst Ron held the other.

"I know not." Ron replied.

"-Can I just interrupt?" Daley hurried on, her many necklaces swinging. "Mr Potter can you look at Mr Malfoy the whole time whilst you read the next part? You are meant to be enraptured by Juliet's beauty, unable to take your eyes away."

Harry did not think this would be too hard, and he flushed slightly as he fixed his eyes on Malfoy, who was pretending to talk to another party goer. He was thankful he couldn't see his face.

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!" Harry began, his eyes flickering between the contours of Malfoy's face and the script.

"It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!"

That part's correct, thought a snide voice in his head, unbidden. He flushed as he realised it was right.

He carried on reading hurriedly.

"Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

Perhaps it was just the lines he was reading that had provoked the thought, but he noticed for the first time that Malfoy did have a certain... beauty about him. The way he held himself, the elegant angles of his body and face. Any one could see that, Harry reassured himself. It wasn't just him.

His pleasant line of thoughts was ruined by the fierce voice of Millicent Bulstrode from behind him.

"This, by his voice, should be a Montague. What dares the slave come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin."

"Is this the character that kills me?" Ron guessed in a quiet undertone.

"Yup... That's Tybalt..." Harry whispered distractedly.

"Young Romeo, is it?" Dean said to Millicent, giving Harry a half smile as he did so.

"'Tis he, that villain Romeo." Millicent replied, giving Harry such a hatred filled look that he doubted it required any acting on her part at all.

"He shall be endured: what, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; amI the master here, or you? go to. You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! You'll make a mutiny among my guests!"

Dean replied fiercely. Harry reflected that he was actually quite a good actor.

Millicent began to back off the stage, dragging Dean with her.

"I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall."

Scowling at Harry one last time, she left the stage with Dean. Harry noticed Ron and the person Malfoy was talking to melt away, too. It was just he and Malfoy left on the stage. He gulped.

Noticing Daley's gestures to walk up to Malfoy, he tentatively did so. He had been left script-less by Ron, and had to hold the other side of Malfoy's, forcing their heads so close together that he could hear Malfoy's ragged breaths.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Harry's cheeks burned hot with the words 'tender kiss' and he noticed Draco's grey eyes were fixated on his as he read the whole thing.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Malfoy said in a low voice.

Harry did not fail to notice that he had lost his monotone, and his lines were being said with a passion and feeling for the first time. Harry's heart was spluttering and he had no idea why.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" Harry said quietly.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." Malfoy whispered. Neither were aware of the fact that their voices had dropped to so quiet that only they could hear them.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." Harry murmured. He watched as Malfoy consulted the script, but he did not need to look to know what the direction was.

'_They kiss._'

His head was millimetres away from Malfoy's, as it looked up from the script. Their hands were both white from clutching the shared paper like a lifeline. Their gazes were riveted on each other, and Harry shivered deliciously at the burning passion in Malfoy's eyes, so undisguised. They slowly dragged down his face to Harry's lips and Harry's heart went into overdrive, because he knew what was going to happen, '_they kiss_', and he was leaning in ever so slightly, his grip loosening on the shared sheet, and Malfoy was leaning in too-

The bell rang.

**:)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Seven**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

Draco blinked.

Although no louder than usual, the bell sounded like a siren in his head and he instinctively leaned away from Potter, panicking. Briefly registering the disappointment and (what he hoped was) longing on his face, he quickly strode out of the classroom, mortified.

Finding an empty third floor corridor, he pulled his sweater vest off to just a white shirt, and sunk to the floor with his head in his hands.

What had he done? He was done for. Ended. He had let his feelings take over, and leaned in to kiss Harry _fucking_ Potter. In front of the whole class. He had whispered romantic lines to him and made a complete spectacle of himself.

It had taken so long to rebuild his reputation of uncaring and haughty Draco Malfoy, from the loser orphan he'd been before. And now he'd just ruined it. It would be all over the school.

By the time his head had cleared a little, his naturally scheming minded had automatically created an excuse. The stage direction had been _they kiss_.. so naturally that's what he'd done. Although Daley had told them they could just _pretend_ to...

And then there was the matter of Potter himself. Draco was no fool, he saw the way Potter was staring into his eyes. Any one would be mortified to do that with such ferocity if it wasn't genuine.

He had heard Potter murmur all the lines to him - if he was just acting he would have surely said them clearly?

I'm overanalysing this, Draco thought ruefully. He should be in Transfigurations right now, but he seriously didn't want to go back into the class that had just seen him behave so inappropriately, and look at the _saviour_ with such lust. But then again.. people may not have even been paying attention. Skipping would probably just draw attention to himself.

It was with a heavy heart that he climbed to his feet and followed the dim corridor to the staircases and walked quickly to Transfiguration.

"Nice of you to join us!" Professor McGonagall's sarcastic Scottish voice rang out, as Draco sidled into the back of the room. Heads turned around but thankfully no whispers broke out. With sweaty palms, Draco sat in his normal assigned seat at the front of the classroom, where he could be kept under McGonagall's watchful eye.

He heard a familiar voice whisper something at the back, and it reminded him so strongly of the morning's events that his hands started to shake so violently he could barely take notes, and eventually he spilt ink all over his desk and the floor.

He muttered a quick 'Scourgify', and heard sniggers. He whipped his head around to see Granger give Weasley a reproachful smack, with meaningful eyes.

Draco stared at them for a few seconds longer than necessary, internally debating whether to flick his eyes along the row to Potter. The decision was soon made for him, however.

"Mr Malfoy? Are you finding Miss Granger particularly interesting today?" McGonagall asked in a tight voice.

Draco watched as Weasley scowled at him, and Draco deemed it safe to momentarily look at the black haired boy next to him.

His mouth was turned down at the corners, his dark eyebrows knitted together, and eyelids heavy. He looked thoroughly depressed. Draco turned back to his parchment, barely daring to hope it was because of the abruptness of his departure. Had he, like Draco, been ready to kiss? Had he felt the same gut wrenching disappointment when the bell had rang?

Draco's head was buzzing with questions he didn't know the answers to. But he was used to it. Draco Malfoy was just one of those people who's entire life seemed like one big, unanswered question.

.-.

Nooooooo! Fucking, fuck, fuck, shit! Harry internally cursed as the bell continued to ring, and he stared at a frozen face millimetres away from his own.

The moment had been destroyed, and would probably never happen again.

Harry could literally see all the barriers reforming around Malfoy; his eyes lost their raw, passionate quality, and became a cool grey once more, his face tightened from it's relaxed, blissful slump, and his lips tightened into a thin line from the half open parting they had previously been. The mask was sliding back on.

Harry was hurt, but not at all surprised, when Malfoy staggered backwards away from him, white strands falling into his eyes. He then turned and strode coolly out of the room.

He wasn't called Malfoy for no reason. It was in his blood to care about social standing. Naturally, Harry Potter trying to kiss him would destroy said standing. Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. What had he done? Why on earth had he tried to kiss Draco Malfoy of all people? He wasn't gay!

Well.. Maybe he'd after consider that point a bit later. But right now, Ron and Hermione were walking up to him with incredulous and demanding expressions on their faces, respectively.

Uh oh.

.-.

"You were only acting?" Ron repeated for the third time, in a loud, carrying whisper.

"Shush!" Harry whispered furiously. They were sitting waiting for Transfiguration to begin. "Yes. Of course I was acting. Why would I actually lean in to kiss Draco Malfoy?"

"I dunno mate. I was really worried there, y'know?" Ron exhaled a sigh of relief. "'Cause it looked genuine on Draco's part. Guess he's just used to acting as someone he's not. After all that Death Eater stuff... But he really looked like he wanted to kiss you... _yeugh_." he shuddered.

Hermione met Harry's eyes over Ron's shoulder, and he knew at once that she saw straight through him. It was plain to see; she looked a little shocked and very reproachful at his downright lying. It was clear she wanted answers, but that was the problem.

Harry didn't have any.

He had no idea why he had felt so happy when he read the stage direction 'they kiss.' Why he had taken to all but purring all his lines to Malfoy. Why he had really, actually, genuinely wanted to lean in and kiss him in that split second.

It was as bizarre as growing a third leg; Harry found the whole idea of wanting to kiss a boy alien, but there was no way he could deny how much he had wanted Malfoy's lips on his.

Did this make him gay? Was he gay only for Malfoy? Or was his body just craving romantic attention, from anyone? Harry had no idea how he could go about finding out.

Professor McGonagall swept in, and all talking subsided. The empty chair in the first row was glowing like a beacon to Harry. It would seem Ron had noticed it, too.

"Wonder where your lover is." he muttered.

"Why is he my lover?" Harry said sharply. Ron looked at him in alarm.

"Calm down mate... I just meant 'cause you're Romeo and Juliet..." Ron gave Hermione a helpless look.

"Sorry." Harry muttered. He wasn't doing very well of hiding it so far.

As the lesson progressed, and Malfoy's absence from class grew ever more prolonged, Harry couldn't help but get more and more antsy, to the point where he accidentally transfigured his own bag into a raccoon.

They were just writing notes when there was a creak, and the sound of soft footfalls. Harry didn't need to look round to know who it was, judging by the hairs standing up on the back of his neck and the furtive glances he was being shot. He obstinately kept his eyes on his notes, listening to Professor McGonagall's reprimand ("_Nice of you to join us_!") and ignoring Ron's nudges.

"What?" he hissed finally.

"He looks like he doesn't want to look at you" Ron muttered, indicating Malfoy.

Great. Back to square one with Malfoy then.

"So?"

"Just thought you might be interested.."

"Why would I be interested?"

"You were obsessed with him all sixth year."

"I was not obsessed with Malfoy all sixth year!" Harry whispered hotly, a little louder than he'd meant to.

Ron poked him quickly and pointed at Malfoy. He seemed to trembling badly and ended up spilling his ink everywhere. Ron snorted, and Harry quickly ducked his head in case Malfoy turned around.

He heard Hermione smack Ron, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a face turned their way. He tried to focus on the text in from of him.

If the incantation is uttered prior..uttered prior..then the object-

"Mr Malfoy? Are you finding Miss Granger particularly interesting today?"

Harry's cheeks flushed for no reason, and he felt inexplicable jealousy pool in stomach.

Why was Malfoy staring at Hermione? Shouldn't he be staring at him, after this morning? Had he misinterpreted Malfoy's signals? Was he really just acting? Ron had said it was something Malfoy was naturally good at.. Pretending to be someone he wasn't..

Trying to figure Draco Malfoy out made killing a basilisk look easy.

**I have to apologise for the last cliffhanger, I felt truly bad leaving it like that! Also, I was wondering if anyone could recommend a good, long DracoxHarry story? I'm between stories at the moment :)**

**Regretably, I return to school tomorrow and I have exams to study for this year, so updates will likely be slower in appearing. (perhaps two chapters a week?) But I'll see how it pans out. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Eight**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

"Harry!"

Harry ignored the call and continued to stride ahead.

"_Harry_!"

He turned around, frowning irritably. "_What_, Hermione?"

She looked at him reproachfully.

"You _know_ what, Harry." she looked around warily and lowered her voice. "You shouldn't have lied to Ron."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry lied, purposefully walking quickly to the lunch hall, and Ron hopefully. Hermione made a scoffing noise.

"I think you do. It's bad enough that you're lying to Ron without lying to yourself as well." she said in a smug, superior voice.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but thankfully Ron joined them at that moment, cutting Hermione's inquiry short.

"Right evil cow, she is." Ron said, without preamble.

"Who?"

"McGonagall!" Ron said, ignoring Hermione's scandalised tut.

"All that bloody homework! I'll be lucky if I'm done by Christmas."

Ron kept up his grumbling all the way through lunch, but Harry didn't mind as it kept Hermione off his back. It didn't stop her, however, from throwing him filthy looks over Ron's shoulder.

As she had Arithmancy that afternoon, Harry managed to escape her shrewd glare, and instead set about scheduling a Quidditch practice for that night - partially to avoid her and partially because they were long overdue one.

After a successful but dirty practice that evening, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common caked in mud, and spent the remainder of the night showering and reading his Romeo and Juliet lines in bed (much to Ron's amusement).

He had just dropped off to sleep when the dormitory door slammed open with a tremendous bang, eliciting simultaneous yells from he, Ron and Neville. Harry, who's heart was thumping, peered blearily through the dark to see who had caused such a commotion.

Dean and Seamus were standing in the middle of the circular room, with sheepish expressions on their faces, sniggering slightly. Harry groaned and buried himself under the duvet, trying to ignore their careless whispers and giggles.

He wondered vaguely what it was like for them. Being publicly in a gay relationship. In a boarding school. He wondered if they got treated any differently in the changing rooms. He certainly hadn't noticed anyone behaving out of turn towards them.

From what he could tell, the wizarding world had a lot more of a laidback view towards homosexuality than the Muggle world did. Only when he realised what he was thinking, did he stop. He was _not_ gay for Malfoy.

Probably.

.-.

Harry had hoped that Hermione would leave him alone the next day, considering what day it was. Apparently not.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" she began anxiously at the breakfast table.

"Not great, Hermione." Harry said shortly. Seeing her open her mouth to lecture him, he quickly cut across her.

"Today's not the day, okay Hermione?"

She looked at him tiredly. "Harry, you can't mope all day. This day comes round every year and you haven't let it stop you from continuing with life before!"

Harry merely looked at her.

"Hermione. I know what you want to talk about, and believe it or not, I can think of better things to talk about than whether or not there is something between a certain nemesis of mine, and myself."

Hermione looked at him sadly, her hand on his wrist.

"Sirius wouldn't have wanted you to spend all his birthday mourning him, Harry." she said gently.

"Forty, Hermione. He would have been forty today! But no, he couldn't even live to that age!" Harry said angrily. Hermione drew back from him, alarmed. Harry instantly felt guiltily.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly. "Some days I miss him more than others. I suppose his fortieth birthday is one of them."

Hermione gave him a watery smile and wordlessly drew him into a warm hug. A few seconds later, the bench under which they were sitting creaked and bounced.

"I haven't got competition, have I?" Ron's voice asked loudly, amused. Hermione slowly pulled away from Harry, swapping slightly exasperated and tired looks. Harry hadn't expected Ron to remember that today was October 1st, or rather what that day meant to him.

It was with a slightly heavier heart that Harry left the Hall for English. He tried to distract himself, and he didn't have to cast his mind around too much to do so.

Today in English they would be continuing the scenes from where they left off. Harry had thought of almost nothing else yesterday.

Today he and Malfoy would have to finish what they started.

Not exactly, of course. Harry did not expect Draco to be nearly as passionate or exposed when they did it. He had known the boy for eight years now; it was sometimes easy to predict how he would act - in this case, as distant and detached from Harry as possible, in order to dispel any _gay_ rumours that may be circling him after yesterday.

But most of the time it was easier to predict the wild highland weather here than how Draco Malfoy would act. Harry felt he could live with him for the rest of his live and still be surprised by him.

...What an odd thought. He had no idea where that had come from. Living with Malfoy?! Whatever next.

.-.

Draco had made a decision.

He was Draco Malfoy, goddamnit. Why was he making a fool of himself and blushing like a school girl over a classmate? It was ridiculous.

For this moment on, he would revert to the old, much more preferable Draco Malfoy. Draco cast his mind back to when he'd last liked who he was. Certainly not last year. Sixth year was out, too. Fifth year. He would be fifth year Draco Malfoy.

And if fifth year Draco Malfoy liked someone, he would do something about it. He wouldn't sit around, moping, waiting for something to happen.

Well, strictly speaking he'd been in love with Harry in fifth year, and the only way he'd acted on it was to be a complete dick to him.

This method of venting his pent up feelings for Potter _on_ Potter himself hadn't really served him very well in the last eight years. And sitting sulking and lapsing into angry outbursts wasn't exactly helping either. Time for a change of plan.

He would do what he had meant to do eight years ago. Befriend Harry Potter. Or at least he civil to him. Prove he wasn't the massively pretentious prat he'd spent eight years acting as.

It was his best chance of either getting over his feelings, by entering the friend zone - or actually getting Potter to like him back.

Make or break, essentially.

So when Potter sidled into English that morning, with a look of dread on his face, Draco carefully positioned his body so that it was facing towards Potter, not away. He knew Potter would not fail to notice.

Potter clearly thought Draco would snub him after yesterday's kissing fiasco. Time to prove him wrong.

"Hello." Draco said pleasantly, hating how cultured and posh the accent he'd taken years to prune sounded. Potter's eyes widened in surprise.

"Hello." he said, sitting down with folded arms. Draco noticed that his hands, unlike everyone else's, was devoid of a script, just as he'd hoped it would be. Excellent.

"Forgotten your script again?" Draco asked, smirking. Potter nodded his head, giving him a rueful smile. "That's detention for me then."

"How about..." Draco put his script down on his lap (for lack of a desk) and tapped it with his wand. He gestured for Potter to take it, who did so with a confused face.

The script immediately multiplied. They now had a copy each.

"Wordless Gemino charm." Draco said smugly. Potter nodded with raised eyebrows, apparently impressed.

"Wow. Thanks, Malfoy. That's good magic." he ventured, running a hand through his shock of hair. As if it needed more messing up.

"Thanks, Potter." Draco replied, taking care to spit 'Potter' as usual. He couldn't let standards slip too far.

At that moment, Daley swept in with a tinkle of jewellery and a swish of shawls. Draco's heart beat picked up. Time for round two.

After what seemed like an eternity of waffle, Daley finally said the words Draco had been bursting to hear. Because he was bursting to return to the proximity of his nemesis. And eight year crush.

Draco strode to the front, so many emotions running through him he couldn't distinguish one from the other. Excitement. Nerves. Adrenaline. Lust.

He knew he wouldn't be able to kiss Potter, not properly. He was slightly disappointed at this, but he knew Rome wasn't built in one day. They would get there eventually.

Potter, apparently, seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Er- Professor?" he said, in that quiet but commanding voice of his. "Do we just do an air kiss here, or..."

"Getting hopeful, Potter?" Nott shouted from the back, amidst other catcalls. Draco rolled his eyes. People got so childish at the mere mention of a gay kiss.

Daley looked at Potter, apparently considering him.

"Well, I was thinking, and obviously you're going to have to actually kiss during the performance, so it would probably be best if you put this into practice now-"

Seamus Finnigan, and others whooped and jeered. Draco barely heard them.

"- Now although, from a traditional point of view, the kisses should be long and passionate-" more shouting and jeering, "- I can't possible expect that of you. As long as you can manage, boys, without it being uncomfortable, even if that is just a second or two."

Potter finally looked away from Daley to look at Draco a bit uneasily.

"Shall we just see how it goes?" Draco said. Potter nodded quickly.

"Well, let's take it from the last line shall we, Mr Potter I believe it was you...?" Daley said, drawing back from the front of the classroom so that Draco and Potter could get into position.

Draco walked up to Potter until his face was about two inches away from Potter's. He could see all the tiny, light flecks in Potter's eyes. Stupidly green, amazing bloody eyes.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." Potter said at a normal volume, apparently not wishing for a repeat of yesterday's whispered lines.

Draco barely had any time to wonder if this was due to embarrassment or regret, when Potter leaned his head in, and closed the tiny two inch distance between them.

At first, his lips barely brushed Draco's, and then Draco exerted a slight pressure, so that their lips were ever so gently pressing together. It was a chaste kiss - barely a kiss at all.

All too soon, one of them drew away, eliciting a tiny sigh - Draco was unsure as to who - and the moment was over. He stared at Potter for a few moments, before someone coughed and he realised with a jolt that the scene was still going. That kiss hadn't been the be-all-and-end-all.

Draco checked his script.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took." he said, his eyes roving over the features of Potter's face, while they had the chance. He stored each little detail away for later.

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." Harry replied.

At the word 'again', Draco glanced down at his script in alarm. The words 'they kiss again' were written. His breathing hitched; he hadn't read that far into the script; he hadn't known he would have to be tortured twice.

This time, he lead the kiss. He leant into the right side, making sure their noses didn't collide, and firmly pressed his lips against Potter's. He hated doing so; every pore in his body screamed for him to move his lips, part them, it took all his self restraint to just keep the kiss to a professional level.

When he had drawn back enough to see Potter clearly once more, he appeared dazed.

"You kiss by the book." Draco said, a little breathlessly.

"Madam, your mother craves a word with you." a loud voice said from behind him, and they both jumped. Granger was stood behind him, but it was not he she was glaring at for once, but Potter.

She appeared to be angry about something.

At Daley's motion, Draco walked silently off the stage, and waited at the side whilst Granger and Potter read their lines. Then, Potter took his place at the side, and Draco rejoined Granger.

He read his lines half distractedly, and it was only when he had to point directly at Potter that his attention was captivated once more.

"What's he that follow's there, that would not dance?" Draco asked. Potter looked over at he with Granger, but slightly to the right of Draco, apparently not willing to look straight at him. Draco wondered if he was scared that if he looked into Potter's eyes, Potter's feelings would be betrayed. Feelings that Draco was not sure even existed, he reminded himself.

"His name is Romeo, and a Montague; the only son of your great enemy." Granger said, and there was a little too much meaning in her eyes than Draco was comfortable with. He hadn't missed the irony of those words, nor the irony in his next ones either.

"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

that I must love a loathed enemy."

The classroom fell deadly silent. It would seem they had picked up on the words 'loathed enemy' too, but none of them quite appreciated the irony like Draco, Potter and (it would seem) Granger did.

My only love sprung from my only hate.

There was never a truer word spoken.

.-.

As he was being 'fifth year Draco', Draco decided to approach Potter at the end of the lesson. No more dancing around Potter, he reminded himself. The old Draco Malfoy was blunt and shrewd in getting what he wanted, and it had usually worked.

"Potter." he said shortly, standing behind him in the rush to leave the room. The mop of dark hair moved quickly, and the infamous face turned to look at him.

"Malfoy." Potter greeted him. He looked nervous. Draco was getting more sure that his feelings were reciprocated by the minute.

"Can I have a word with you?" Draco asked quietly. The last thing he needed was Granger or Weasley to hear. If he didn't return Potter within thirty seconds they would probably send out a search party.

Potter's emerald eyes blinked at him behind his glasses, clearly surprised. "Y-yes." he stuttered. Draco resisted a smirk. The usually cocky, smart arse Potter he had seen so often in Potions had apparently died with Voldemort.

"This way," Draco corrected him, turning Potter's direction via his elbow, when he tried to head to the common room.

"I think you mean please?" Potter snapped. Ah, the cockiness had returned.

Good.

"Do you _really_ expect me to say that, Potter?"

Draco pulled him into a disused Charms classroom, and smoothly locked the door with his wand. Fifth year Draco, he reminded himself.

Potter looked at him expectantly.

"Yesterday morning," Draco said shortly, knowing this would be all he needed to say.

Potter opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. Draco steeled himself. It was time to let go of the quiet, receded Draco of late and embrace the forward, arrogant one which slumbered within him.

"I know you _wanted_ to kiss me." Draco said, watching Potter for the explosion which would surely come.

"I- no!" Potter spluttered. "Contrary to popular belief, _Draco_, not everyone is obsessed with you."

Draco disregarded this. "Potter. I need to know where you stand. We have to spend the year acting pathetically in love, and telling each other so on a daily basis. Then, of course, there's the kissing. I need to know whether it's genuine on your part, because I don't like being fucked around."

"Fucked aro-" Draco could practically see Potter's mind whirring. "Why would you be being fucked around?" Comprehension dawned on his face. He looked at Draco warily.

"You wanted to kiss me too." he stated, those damn green eyes wide behind his glasses. His mouth was parted slightly, and Draco cursed the perfect symmetry of it. It was very distracting.

"Perhaps," Draco said evasively. He was enjoying messing with Potter, as ever. Some things never changed.

"Let me know when you've made up your mind." Potter said angrily, and turned away to the door. Draco smirked. It was just too easy to get his back up.

Draco crossed the room in two, long strides. He seized Potter's shoulders, roughly swung him around, and urgently pressed his lips against Potter's surprised, half open mouth, his hands gripping Potter's forearms tightly and pinning him between the door and himself.

Draco's lips melded into the Potter's perfectly, both of them moving desperately against the other, weeks's worth of built up sexual tension and frustration finally finding an outlet. The mere fact that they were long time enemies, who were meant to hate the mere sight of each other, made the whole thing that much more forbidden and hotter.

To Draco, the minutes that followed felt exactly like the final crescendo in a love song; the split second when the music swells and the chorus is reinforced; the final key change; the moment which provokes goosebumps or tears. Every minute felt like one of these split seconds.

Every fibre in his body was screaming, every pore singing, because the boy he'd watched for eight years at a distance was finally, finally in his arms, responding to him. Every minute the eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and seventeen year old versions of Draco had ever spent loving Harry was worth it, and all those emotions, eight year's worth, was pouring into this kiss.

Draco wanted, no, _needed_, more and he urgently ran his tongue along Harry's lip, waiting for him to part his lips and grant Draco entrance, so he could finally taste Harry Potter.

He felt Harry's lips curve in a smile against his own, and he realised Harry was playing games with him. Draco growled angrily against his lips, which Harry seemed to like as he quickly complied. His tongue swept Harry's mouth, exploring it thoroughly before tangling delightedly with Harry's own in a way which caused his taste buds to implode.

His hand were tangled possessively in Harry's shock of hair, whilst Harry's were wrapped firmly around his waist. They clung to each other like they were the last two people in the world. To Draco, they may as well have been.

Time ticked by and the kiss only deepened, occasionally breaking for air, but otherwise continuous for a solid thirty minutes, before they remembered that not only were they in a classroom, they were also in a school, and supposed to be in a lesson at that moment.

They departed fairly quickly after that.

**I've been dying to write this chapter for ages.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name  
Chapter Nine**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

The short walk from the disused classroom to the Transfigurations one was quiet, but only in one respect. The air between them hummed with feelings and unsaid things.

Harry was fearful they would bump into someone because he was sure the sexual tension was glaringly obvious, he fretted that they would taste it in the air just as he did. He walked close to Malfoy, their hands apart only fractionally. Logically, he should be panicking - something had just happened that would change his entire outlook on life forever.

But Malfoy was walking so serenely, and practically emitting calm vibes that Harry felt extremely hard pushed to be stressed. Indeed, Malfoy seemed to have a certain spring in his step which intrigued and pleased Harry no end.

"What are we going to say?" Harry said finally, when they reached the classroom door. Malfoy looked at him with a slightly surprised expression.

"Er - Potter - I don't really-" he twisted his fingers awkwardly.  
"To McGonagall!" Harry added hurriedly, seeing how his question had been construed.

"Oh." Malfoy looked immensely relieved. "Just say you came over ill, Potter. You're the Chosen One. She'll lap it up."

Harry nodded, and nervously opened the classroom door. Hermione's mind would probably explode with suspicion when she saw who he was with.

"Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed when they entered. "May I ask where you've been?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Malfoy spoke first.

"Potter came over faint after English. He said it would pass, but I waited with him. He started burning up after ten minutes or so but he insisted we come to lesson."

Harry immediately tried to look overly warm. This wasn't too hard because, as Malfoy was well aware, his cheeks were already flushed and burning after his recent activity with him.

"Come over here, Potter. Mr Malfoy go to your seat." Harry nervously walked to the front.

"You look fine to me." she said sternly, giving Harry a piercing state. He tried not to gulp. "Next time try to have a better excuse prepared?" she advised, frowning disapprovingly.

"Yes, Professor." Harry mumbled.

"Detention, my office, tomorrow night." Professor McGonagall sniffed. "You too, Mr Malfoy," she added raising her voice. Harry turned around to see an irritated looking Malfoy.

"Certainly. Professor." he all but spat. Harry got a sudden feeling of déjà vu. Slughorn's Christmas party - Snape asking Malfoy to accompany him out of the party - "Certainly. Professor".

Harry shivered.  
.-.

"Harry. Talk to me." Hermione hissed the minute Harry touched his seat. Ron looked on attentively.  
"What?" Harry muttered, deliberately drawing out the process of taking his books out of his bag as so to delay looking at her.

"Where were you? And don't give me any of this 'ill' business," she added, when he opened his mouth. "Even McGonagall knows it's a lie."

Harry searched his mind for what would qualify as a good, innocent answer for why he stayed behind with Draco Malfoy.

"We were…" he started aimlessly, casting his mind around desperately. Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
"..Reading through our lines." he finished somewhat lamely.

Excellent. So he and Malfoy had kissed not five minutes ago and he was already feeding people lies. He had a sudden image of returning to the common room late at night and telling Ron and Hermione elaborate stories about his whereabouts.

Ron and Hermione looked at him, respectively shocked and unimpressed.  
"Mate, why would you do that?" Ron asked, aghast. Harry tried to shrug nonchalantly.

"We were just continuing the scene and .. lost track of time."  
Behind Ron, Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry felt a sense of foreboding. She would be expecting answers very, very soon. He knew that much.

.-.

That day was spent in a very similar fashion to the one before; dodging Hermione. Harry only succeeded doing so by lurking in various corners of the school, under his invisibility cloak until long after the curfew.

By 11pm, he was just leaving the Astronomy classroom. A quiet mewl called his attention, and to his horror he saw Mrs Norris padding ominously towards him. He may have defeated the Dark Lord but the sight of the caretaker's car still invoked fear, and he quickly sprinted up the nearest staircase.

Unfortunately, this was the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower in Hogwarts, and therefore not a good place to jog up. Harry was wheezing and panting by the time he reached the stop. He steadied himself against the wall for a few seconds before stepping out into the top of the tower that held so many memories for him.

He hadn't been here since the night Dumbledore had died.

He would never forget that night, nor the look of pure, undisguised terror on Draco Malfoy's face. As he stepped out of the stairwell, onto the tower floor, he immediately saw a lone figure leaning over the battlements. The boy who had been here the last time too.

Malfoy was a sight like no other in the moonlight. He was pale enough in ordinary lighting, but bathed in white rays he looked ethereal and translucent.

Harry gasped; he couldn't help it. Malfoy whipped around with a look of rising alarm on his face. It fell away when he saw it was Harry, and his eyes searched Harry's face almost imperceptibly. He turned away after a second, looking back out over the tower.

Harry slowly walked up to stand next to him. Unlike Malfoy, he made no pretence of observing the view, but turned his body sideways as so to stare directly at Malfoy's side profile.

Malfoy eventually turned to look at him.  
"I'm sorry." he said, in a voice so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

"What? _Why_?" Harry asked quickly, in a far louder voice.

Malfoy continued to look at him, his face unreadable. Harry was struck by how much of the fire he'd know Draco Malfoy to possess had disappeared. The taunting boy of their youth seemed a million miles from this somber version.

"For kissing you." Malfoy said finally. Harry felt his face contort in shock.

"Why would you be sorry about that?" Harry asked, his heart thudding. He should have known - this was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't going to just take sudden kisses in his stride.

Malfoy looked at him in surprise, as if it should be obvious.  
"For inflicting myself on you, of course." he said, with a faint, ironic sneer. "I shouldn't have let my feelings get the better of me. I apologise."

Harry stared at him. Malfoy was backing out; it was probably some side effect of his childhood - avoid anything considered unusual and a subject of gossip.

He knew he had just been delivered the perfect way of excusing the whole event; he could live with the memory, content with the reassurance it was all Malfoy's fault. He could move on, telling himself it was nothing to do with him.

That would be the easier choice. But when had he, Harry Potter, ever chosen the easier choice?

"No." he said finally, surprised by the strength of his own voice. Malfoy's face flickered from impassive to slightly confused.

"I wanted to kiss you, as hard as that may be to hear." he said, smirking slightly. "You didn't inflict yourself on me." he stared into Malfoy's conflicted grey eyes, unsure of what Malfoy was thinking. "I have wanted to kiss you for a very long time." he admitted softly, blushing furiously at the words.

If Malfoy was to change his mind about Harry, he had just given Malfoy some deadly ammunition with those words.

Malfoy's face remained unreadable as he seemed to contemplate those words. He turned back to gaze out over the grounds, the moonlight bathing his pointed, beautiful face once more.

"Good." he said finally, with a ghost of a smile.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but Malfoy continued talking.

"I'm not as strong or spirited as I used to be, Potter." he said, not looking at Harry. "I've lost a lot of things. I may act with bravado but I'm damaged. You don't want to get caught up with me."

Harry swallowed the lump that had rose in his throat. So this was what it was about. He surprised himself by placing a tender hand on Malfoy's arm.  
"I do." he said, and Malfoy's breathing hitched. "God knows why Malfoy, but I do."

Malfoy muttered something about "_A saving people thing_".

"That sounds more like the Malfoy I know." he whispered and he finally saw Malfoy's composure break as a smirk spread across it, as familiar as an old friend.

Malfoy's hand suddenly snaked around Harry's wrist and tugged Harry closer, taking a step forward at the same time. All in the same, flowing motion, he angled his head and pressed his mouth against Harry's. It was a soft touch of lips, a gentle pursing of a kiss to counter the aching grip that the Slytherin had over Harry's wrist.

All too soon, Malfoy's lips released his, and Harry heard a groan escape from his own lips as he stared desperately at Malfoy's wet, red mouth.

Malfoy smirked again and Harry felt warm just looking at it.  
"All in good time." he whispered quietly. He turned to leave, the green of his robes fluttering in the slight breeze.

"Good night," Harry called out softly, feeling foolish even as he did so. For half a second he thought Malfoy would ignore him, but he slowly turned around, his grey eyes all the more piercing in the pale light.

"Good night." he replied. Then a smirk stole across his face, causing Harry's heart to melt once more. If mere smirks had this effect on him, it would seem that Draco Malfoy provoked dangerous effects in him.  
But he had always known that.

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow." Malfoy quoted, still smirking.

"That I shall say good night till it be morrow." Harry finished quietly. Malfoy smiled deviously, a smile reminiscent of better times, and left the tower.

Harry closed his eyes as he leant back against the battlement. It had been a wonderful, but strange day.

As he stood there, blind to his surroundings, he could have sworn he felt the a kiss on his cheek, so faint it could have been the wind.

But could wind create the sound of the soft footfalls Harry heard retreating?

Or the warmth that lingered on his cheek?

**I'M SO SO SORRY. I had networking problems which lasted a week and half, meaning my first opportunity to post this was today. I know it has been horrendously long between chapters and I assure you this was a one of, and to expect a new chapter within a few days.**

**Did anyone notice the new cover? All credit goes to the lovely OliviaLipstick for making it. **

**Review and tell me what you think, as usual :)**

**P.S: to any waiting for an update for A Match Made In Hell it will probably come later today or tomorrow, I haven't written it as yet.**

**P.P.S: I have been procrastinating wildly from school work, and the result is a new story, the first chapter of which has just been published - see 'Clarity'. It's Draco and Harry, naturally.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Ten**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

Despite being October, the next morning dawned sunny, even if it was a rather wintry sun, and Harry rose in excellent spirits. Ron did not mention his change in temperament but tried poorly to disguise his surprise.

As Harry hung back in the dormitory to fetch socks from the debris covered bottom of his trunk, Ron went ahead to breakfast. When Harry descended the staircase some five minutes later, he found his way blocked by a determined-looking Hermione.

"Hi Hermione." Harry said brightly, trying to slip past her.

"Harry." she said firmly, and his heart sank a little.

"What?" he asked nonchantly.  
"You know what," she hissed, surreptitiously looking round to check no one could hear.

"Where were you after English yesterday? Hm? And don't tell me you were reading lines-" she added when Harry opened his mouth. "-With _Malfoy_, of all people, because you and I both know that's not true."

Harry swallowed; to tell the truth or not to tell the truth? That was the question.

"We got to talking..." he began quietly. Hermione's eyebrows shot up but she looked smug. Harry changed his mind at the speed of light. "-About the war, and Snape, Y'know 'cause they were so close... And it turns out Malfoy's a decent human being." Harry lied, only able to say the last part with conviction.

Hermione, however, seemed satisfied with the answer.  
"And why, may I ask, did you refrain from telling Ron this?" she asked, folding her arms.

Harry shrugged. "He hates Malfoy, I don't want to fall out with him over it."

Hermione sighed. "You know he would probably understand if you explained that Malfoy had changed."

Harry hoped that the deep meaning behind those words was just his imagination; he hastened to correct Hermione.

"There's nothing to understand, Malfoy and I aren't friends or anything - this is why I didn't tell either of you. I don't want it to be a big deal."

Hermione nodded, and launched into a tirade about how much work Harry had to do but was shirking, which she kept up all the way to breakfast where thankfully Ron could intervene.

Malfoy as usual wasn't present at breakfast, but nonetheless Harry carried the memory of last night's meeting on the Astronomy tower with him like a glowing talisman. He even consented to entering into a conversation with Ginny, much to her undisguised delight.

Harry ate little; he was far too excited for the morning's English lesson, and as a result time seemed to drag slower than ever. Finally it seemed as if Ron had at last eaten his full and they sloped off to English.

Harry entered the classroom with a beating heart and his eyes immediately fixed on the seat next to him, disappointingly empty. Feeling Hermione's eyes on him, Harry did not betray any feelings and walked as usual to his seat, listening to Ron talk eagerly about the upcoming Quidditch match.

"Yeah, that's right." Harry said distractedly, watching as the door opened and the person he'd been hoping to see walk in.

Malfoy showed no sign that he had noticed Harry. He walked to his seat at the back of the class room and collapsed gracefully into it. Harry watched him patiently, waiting for Malfoy to acknowledge him - surely he wouldn't do the whole ignoring-him thing all over again?

But he was left disappointed as Professor Daley hurried in and the pale boy to his left was silent, and remained so throughout the lesson.

Harry was distracted and irritable all lesson as a result; here he was, forced to read line after line on stage with Ron and Seamus acting as Mercutio and Benvolio, when he could be sat in the back near Malfoy, like Hermione.

When at long, long, last the bell rang, Harry practically sprinted from the stage to the back of the class to retrieve his bag.

Making subtle gestures to Hermione to carry ahead without him, knowing she would understand and sweep Ron along with her, he caught Malfoy on the arm as he rose to leave.

"Malfoy, wait." he said.  
Malfoy said nothing, but slug his bag onto his shoulder.

"You've been ignoring me all lesson." Harry said steadily, feeling simultaneously foolish and vulnerable. This was really pathetic of him, he told himself firmly.

"Is that so?" Malfoy murmured, busying himself with adjusting the strap on his bag, not looking at Harry.

"Yes," said Harry irritably. "You're doing it now."

"How interesting." Malfoy said softly, as if disinterested in the topic. Harry watched his slender fingers finally withdraw from the bag strap, with mounting irritation.

"Malfoy." Harry said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Malfoy finally looked up at him, his grey eyes staring into Harry's with a staggering intensity, his pointed features contorted in pain. His cool, detached demeanour had disappeared.

"You're making a mistake, Potter. We're not meant to talk to each other. Or like each other. Or anything else. I'm an ex Death Eater, remember? I'm a Malfoy and you're a Potter. We're meant to hate each other. So keep away from me."

He turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Harry stood frozen for a few seconds before his anger kicked in and he stormed out the room after him.

"Malfoy!" He bellowed after the retreating white blonde head down the corridor. It stopped and turned.

"What, Potter?" he sneered, and suddenly they were back. It wasn't eighth year anymore, it was third or fourth year and they were no more than hate fueled rivals.

"You're not going to weasel your way out of this, you ferret!" Harry said angrily. Students stopped in the corridor to watch with open mouths and excited expressions. Potter and Malfoy fights were always good. Harry ignored them.

Malfoy flushed pink at the word ferret, and his eyes flashed in spite. "What's wrong Scarhead, feeling a bit desperate? Resorting to Slytherins now? Sorry but I'm not available, even for the Chosen One." he said maliciously, knowing he'd hit the spot.

"That's not what you were saying last night." Harry shot back, and earned a few titters from the surrounding crowd. Little did they know that this was almost true.

All the blood drained from Draco Malfoy's face, and he went even paler than usual, accentuating his arrogant, chiselled cheek bones. Harry tried not to look to closely, but an angry Malfoy was an admittedly attractive one.

"Oh, _of course _Potter, that's why I've been picking fights with you and made you my enemy. Because I fancy you so much - oh, be still my beating heart!" Malfoy half shouted, half sneered, well and truly rubbing salt in the wound. Although Harry did not know it, every word he spoke was true.

Harry felt sick; this was the boy he inexplicably _wanted_, more than he'd ever wanted Ginny or Cho, and the boy was screaming at him from down a Hogwarts corridor in anger.

"So why did you do it?" Harry asked, his voice shaking. "On Daddy's orders? Well he's dead now, isn't he, so I guess that's why you haven't picked any fights with me. It was all _Daddy_ all along, not little Draco." He had no idea what had made him say it, but he knew instantly he'd gone too far.

Malfoy stared at him, shaking visibly with anger, before drawing his wand and pointing at Harry. Before he could say anything, however, Professor McGonagall came running round the corner, apparently having heard the shouting.

"Potter! Malfoy!" she exclaimed with flaring nostrils. "Follow me! Now! The rest of you get to your classes!"

Harry remained with his eyes fixed on Malfoy's furious stormy ones as the crowd quickly melted away, but after a sharp cough from Professor McGonagall he and Malfoy reluctantly pulled their eyes away and followed her sullenly.

"See this is what I meant, Potter. We're a Potter and a Malfoy. We'd never work together. We're both too...damaged. We have too much history." Malfoy muttered, too quiet for McGonagall to hear.

"Actually," Harry contradicted in an almost inaudible whisper. "I think that would make us all the more stronger. Because despite that history and that damage, despite all we've been through, we still make an excellent duo." Malfoy looked at him silently with wide eyes and an unreadable face.

"Even if you are an angry bastard." Harry added softly, and Malfoy's mouth twitched.

"We'd end up killing each other." Malfoy whispered warningly as they followed in Professor McGonagall's wake.

"We are both very passionate," Harry agreed softly.

"We just need to find a better outlet than fighting," Malfoy murmured, with a smirk. "A better way of letting out... Pent up feelings."

"I can think of a few ways?" Harry whispered, unusually tentative.

"As can I." Malfoy murmured in reply, his expression unusually open and gentle, and just for a second his hand brushed against the back of Harry's whilst they walked.

.-.

"I wonder where Harry is?" Ron asked, a few hours later.

Hermione, who had his head in his lap, spoke without lifting her gaze from the common room fire.

"He's in double detention with Malfoy and Professor McGonagall."

"Double?" Ron frowned. "What's he done now?"

"He was caught fighting with Malfoy earlier today, so Professor McGonagall doubled their existing detention." Hermione's brow furrowed. Fighting with Malfoy didn't agree with the theory she had about them.

"Can't blame Harry." Ron sighed and resumed his stroking of Hermione's hair.

"Bet he's having a horrible time right now."

.-.

Harry was thrown back against the wall, and he emitted a moan as the frantic mouth against his own moved in a way that delighted his senses, the slick tongue writhing in his mouth around his own which invoked certain reactions in other parts of his body-

Malfoy rubbed his body against Harry's and Harry felt his body respond of its own volition as Malfoy started up a wonderful friction and there was so much pleasure to consider - the mind numbing feelings the long leg placed between his own was creating, or the soft lips running and sliding between his.

Not to mention the beautifully slender fingers which combed through his hair, sending shivers down his spine as they brushed against his scalp. They were so long and skilled Harry's brain nearly exploded at the thought of what else they could do to him.

Harry caught Malfoy's lip between his teeth and tugged at it, enjoying the feeling that he had a part of him between his lips - his mind running riot at what else could go between his lips- and Malfoy didn't seem to mind at all, no he even speeded up the grinding of his body and moaned enthusiastically.

When Harry released his lip, Malfoy wasted no time in taking his turn to claim a part of the other boy, his mouth roamed from Harry's lips, glided down his jawline - he painted a wet stripe down it - before nuzzling against his sweet, fragrant neck.

Harry was shocked by the daring of Malfoy when a second later he felt lips fasten on to his neck and begin to suck gently, like a baby.

Malfoy slowly licked the salty taste of sweat of Harry's neck and enjoyed it, enjoyed how kinky it was, before returning his lips to the pale expanse of skin and set about marking his territory. Harry gripped Malfoy's shoulders to steady himself, his mind having deserted him after being confronted with so many feelings at once, and now he was just floating in pleasure, not exactly sure what Malfoy and his mouth was doing but thoroughly enjoying it anyway.

.-.

"I know." Hermione agreed. "He must be having a horrible time. Our night must be going ten times better than his."

.-.  
This time it was Harry's turn to take control. He seized Draco's shoulders and whipped him around, pinning him against the stone wall and kissing him ferociously. He hadn't spoken in a long time, so when they separated to draw breath, it came out rather faintly.

"I prefer this to fighting any day." he croaked.

"I have wanted to kiss you so badly all day-" Draco said hoarsely before he quickly reattached his lips to Harry's, both boys unable to be apart for too long.

Draco was thankful that he was taller than Harry, it was much more preferable to lower his head slightly and kiss the other boy, he could take control so much better-

His hands were wandering down Harry's body, they wrapped round his waist and brought him closer, if that were physically possible, filling any millimeters that had been left open, until all he could see, think and smell was _Harry_-

His pale hands then fell to Harry's bottom and gripped it tightly, pulling his waist and other areas into his own and he impatiently bucked his hips into them, desperate to quell the painful ache that had arisen. Harry groaned erotically in his mouth which did little to help matters.

Draco needed to be closer but he didn't see how that could be possible, they were wrapped so tightly in each other's arms he could not get any closer to Harry Potter if he tried. He impulsively swung his legs up and wrapped both his legs around Harry's waist and clung to him, his arms wrapped similarly around his back, kissing with a passion he didn't know he had.

He had never felt so strongly about anyone or anything as he had in this moment - not in his fear for the Dark Lord, love for his parents or terror in the war.

Not even in the love he'd carried for Harry for eight years, because now that love had all combined and multiplied because now the Boy Who Lived was entangled in his limbs and was kissing him fiercely, and was trapped between Draco's legs which were wrapped around his waist and it didn't compare to anything because he knew that all this boy wanted and needed was _him_, and it felt so wonderful to be that to someone, to be their completion-

The feelings truly overcame them both and they just let the feelings take them as they hoarsely whimpered their pleasure and they collapsed in a sweaty pile in each other's robed arms, continuously stealing kisses, the green trimmings resting alongside the scarlet.

**Six days between chapters, ooft, I'm sorry again, I've just had lots of schoolwork to do - but let me know what you think of this new chapter - or in fact any chapter you want.:)**

**Did everyone hear the news about Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them?! This is amazing. Just when the rest of the world thought the Harry Potter world was finished and it returns - I can't even...**


	11. Chapter 11

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Eleven **

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

"How was detention?" Ron asked when Harry entered the common room around midnight. Harry grinned broadly.

"Great." He hurried to correct himself after receiving curious looks from Ron and Hermione. "I mean- er- as detentions go- not too hard-"

His lips twitched involuntarily, thinking of the innuendo. He really was in an extraordinarily good mood.

"McGonagall just gave us some lines and left us to our own devices." he added, trying to gloss over his slip up.

"You tolerated Malfoy then?" Hermione asked suspiciously, raising her head fractionally from Ron's lap.

Harry nodded and suddenly snorted with laughter. Ron and Hermione exchanged bewildered looks.

"What?" Ron asked, looking utterly confused.

"Just a joke Malfoy made- I think I'll, er, go to bed then." Harry said hastily, striding as fast as he dared to the dormitory.

The minute he had fully entered the empty room, and the heavy oak door shut behind him, he burst out laughing. With a flash of colour, Malfoy pulled the cloak of his head and appeared, grinning too.

"You really- shouldn't have- tickled me." Harry said somewhat breathlessly. "They must think I'm mad."

"And there lies the difference between your friends and I." Malfoy said, smirking and stepping closer to Harry.

"What's that?" Harry mumbled, somewhat preoccupied with the unusual sight of a happy Draco Malfoy; what's more, a happy Draco Malfoy in his Gryffindor dormitory.

"I've always known you were mad, Scarhead." Malfoy smirked, but there were no underlying menacing tones - he was teasing and Harry didn't mind at all.

"Scarhead now, is it?" Harry gasped in mock offence.

Malfoy gave him a rare, genuine smile that tugged at Harry's heart.  
"It always has been."

Apparently unable to withhold from kissing Harry any longer, Malfoy moved quickly forward and threaded his left hand along Harry's jaw and into his hair. He used the hand to pull Harry forward, none too gently but Harry didn't care one bit, he eagerly responded and kissed Malfoy back, feeling as if he had been away from those lips far too long.

He said as much.

"Good grief, it's barely been twenty minute, what are you, an animal?" Malfoy murmured against Harry's pressing lips.

"I can be if you want me too?" Harry offered unexpectedly. He immediately felt foolish; it would seem his brain had taken leave.

Malfoy snickered and Harry felt it rumble through his slim body.

"Kinky, Potter, I'm surprised. Naturally you would be a lion. I would be the composed, foreboding and strong dragon-"

"Dragon?" Harry pulled his lips away long enough to purse them. "Why not a snake?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You are so literal, Potter. Just because I am a Slytherin you assume I would want to be the slithery amphibian itself."

Harry tried not to ignore the feeling that he had just been owned by Malfoy.

"All right." he answered defiantly. "So why am I automatically a lion?"

Malfoy smiled at him and it warmed Harry's heart. He did not answer straight away but leaned in to place a feather-light kiss on his jaw, and a quivering butterfly kiss on his cheek. Harry shivered irresistibly.

"Because, my dear Potter-"

"-Harry." Harry corrected automatically. Malfoy's- no, Draco's- expression relaxed momentarily and Harry caught a glimpse of strong emotion under the composed mask.

"My dear Harry," Draco continued in a slightly patronising tone, his eyebrows quirked and a smile playing around his lips. "You are every bit the lion. You are strong, courageous, proud," he smirked slightly "and ultimately foolish."

Harry frowned. "Hey!" he protested. "You were going so well. Why ruin it?"

"Because you are," Draco said softly. "You are such a magnet for controversy and danger it makes you incredibly foolish. Out of all the people in the school to start kissing you go for the one that has given you the most abuse. Who's family backed your mortal enemy. If it's not foolish to go for me then I don't know what is."

Harry was utterly overwhelmed. He wasn't sure what saddened him more; the words that were said or the matter-of-fact way in which they were spoken.

Without even having to think about it, he seized Draco's abandoned hand and pulled him backwards until they toppled onto the bed together. A careless flick from Harry's wand sent all the hangings shut and silenced, enclosing he and Draco in their own little world.

.-.

"A dragon?" Harry finally queried, sometime later.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow to look at Harry. Despite having shuddered slightly when his jumper had been thrown unceremoniously to the floor earlier, in what he called - "A horrendous and unsightly crumpled heap."- he now seemed quite content to lie around in his rumpled shirt and tie.

He sighed.  
"If you insist on spending time in my presence, at least attempt to seem educated?" he asked wearily, rolling his eyes again.

Harry scowled at him.

"Draco is Latin for dragon." Draco said quietly. Harry open and closed his mouth wordlessly.

"Wow- wait. So you're called dragon?" he asked curiously. Draco apparently could not refrain from rolling his eyes once more.

"Good grief. Did you not go to a grammar school growing up?"

"Er- no?" Harry said, feeling slightly put out. Draco apparently sensed this, for he leaned in to kiss Harry on the nose.

"I suppose I can make do with that." he offered, his grey eyes sparkling. Harry had never seen him so warm and, well, human.

Harry yawned, and Draco watched with amused eyes.

"If you wish for these... little meetings to continue, I suggest you change your yawn sometime soon." he advised, not looking up from the tie he was trying to undo. Someone, and Harry thought rather shrewdly that it may have been him, had yanked and pulled at it in a way that now caused it to remain stubbornly tied tight.

"Let me." he said softly, surprising himself. Draco arched an eyebrow, but said nothing as he leaned back and allowed Harry to deftly untie it. Harry could feel Draco's breath blowing through his hair gently and he shivered delightedly. He heard Draco snort somewhere above him.

"You're easy to please." he remarked teasingly.

"I don't know why you're laughing, it will surely work in your favour." Harry said before he could stop himself. He bit his lip, waiting for Draco's biting retort.

"Oh I don't know, I like a challenge, Potter." Draco said lightly, and Harry looked up, relieved, to see that Draco burning eyes did not reflect the tone he had spoken with.

Harry swallowed. "Is that why you chose me then?" he asked boldly. Draco took his time to answer, Harry patiently observed the pink tinged cheeks and intense gaze. Apparently his words had struck some unseen chord with Draco.

"Lord knows, I didn't _choose_ you, Potter." he said finally.  
"Harry." Harry whispered automatically.

He was itching to know what Draco meant, but Draco abruptly kissed him, shifting his body weight so that he wasn't lying next to him but hovering over the top, a hand planted either side of Harry's head for support. He kissed Harry fiercely, and Harry vaguely wondered if it was to distract him from what he had just let slip, because it was working...

Draco sank back to his pillow, grinning deviously and the familiar 'evil' smile was like a warm hug to Harry.

"Good night, Harry." Draco murmured, looping his arm protectively around Harry's waist, his eyelids fluttering shut, and Harry's heart nearly broke at how perfect the scene was.

"Good night Draco." he whispered back, snuggling closed in his arms.

.-.

Draco was awoken by Harry shaking him roughly.

"What?" he mumbled incoherently, his eyes protesting at the light when he tried to open them.

"Quick!" Harry hissed. "Put the cloak on. Before the others wake up and yank back the hangings."

Suddenly alert, Draco sat upright quickly, buttoning up the white shirt which was flapping open slightly at the top (his cheeks burning a little as he hazily recalled just who had unbuttoned it), and threw Harry's invisibility cloak over his head.

A second too late, he noticed his jumper lying on the floor where it had been thrown haphazardly last night. He was about to nudge Harry, who was throwing on his own jumper, but-

"Oi oi!" Finnigan poked his head around the curtains, grinning. "Why are the curtains pulled, ey? Having a little alone time are we Harry?"

The curtains were fully opened by an invisible hand, and Weasley, Longbottom and the Mudblood appeared, all smirking. Draco rolled his eyes. Gryffindors were so immature.

Harry stared up at his friends with wide eyes, apparently unable to formulate an answer. Draco couldn't resist nudging him helpfully.

"Just thought I'd... try something new." Harry offered, scratching the back of his head, apparently unconcerned.

Weasley pulled a face of disgust that was most unbecoming to him, in Draco's opinion. "Mate... too much opinion, y'know?"

Harry stared at him for a second, confused, and Draco mentally slapped him. It would seem Harry wasn't the fastest person in the morning.

He leaned forward ever so gently, trying not to make the bed creak and draw attention to himself, and ghosted a whisper into Harry's ear.

"Innuendo." he breathed, and Harry jumped. His friends stared at him.

"Oh! No I didn't mean I was trying _that_ sort of new thing.. I meant sleeping with the hangings closed!" Harry said hurriedly, blushing furiously. Draco snickered silently. It was definitely surreal to be sitting half dressed and invisible on Harry Potter's bed in a Gryffindor dormitory.

Finnigan glanced at his feet, sniggering, and Draco followed his line of vision to his own black jumper. Slytherin emblem up.

Fuck.

"Er- what is _this_?" Weasley asked suspiciously, holding Draco's jumper aloft between a the tip of his finger and thumb, as if it would bite. Draco would have rolled his eyes if his heart wasn't thumping as hard as it was.

Harry seemed frozen staring at the offending article. Then he relaxed.  
"Nicked if off Malfoy." he said casually, grinning at his friends.

Draco reclined back on the bed quietly. This would be interesting.

Weasley raised an eyebrow at Finnigan and the Mudblood, who were grinning appreciatively.

"Er- _why_?" he asked apprehensively.

Harry shrugged. "He left it behind in English. I thought missing a jumper might cause a bit of trouble for him."

Weasley nodded as if in understanding. Good grief, Draco thought, Harry's friends were certainly not as smart as his own.

"Can you leave me to get dressed now?" Harry asked in a weak voice. His friends retreated, still sniggering. Draco did not resist from rolling his eyes now. Their sense of humour left a lot to be desired.

Harry quickly picked up the jumper while their backs were turned and passed it to Draco under the cloak. Draco squeezed his hand momentarily in thanks, before slipping off the bed and sneaking out of the room.

He got out completely unnoticed but he wasn't surprised; he had grown up sneaking around and learning how to be completely silent.

Draco made the short journey up the stairs to the Slytherin section of the tower and slipped in, still invisible. Seeing that his only roommates, Davis and Nott were not present, he took off the cloak and examined it for a few seconds.

It truly was beautiful. He allowed the soft fabric to run through his fingers and admired he way it flowed - he had never seen magic like it. This was the cloak that he had envied for so many years, in his very hands, even more strangely - with Harry's permission.

Yes, times had certainly changed.

.-.

It was an unspoken rule that Harry and Draco did not acknowledge each other in the corridors, beyond perhaps a brief smirk or ironic sneer.

Nevertheless, it still pained Draco have to walk alone to English- as he always did- but especially so today as he was only a few steps behind the Golden Trio and their chatter floated back to him easily.

Here was another thing he envied; that Granger and Weasley were perfectly able to walk with Harry and talk and laugh with him, whilst Draco was forced to walk on his own. For one of the few times in his life, the rules of society were not in his favour.

Not once did Harry turn around and notice that Draco was only a few feet away; it was only when he walked through the English door and held it open for Draco that he gave a start, and smiled at Draco in a way that made him want to simultaneously hug him and slap him for being too damn too cute.

Good grief, what was happening to him? Apparently spending an evening with Harry had made him become soppy Gryffindor. Words like 'hug' and 'cute' were not in a Malfoy's vocabulary.

"We're in a scene together today," Harry murmured as Draco sat down in his chair and swung his feet up on the back of a girl's chair as usual.

"Oh?" Draco asked softly, flicking through his script.

"Ah, yes." he murmured, running his finger down the page. "The balcony scene."

"Is there much kissing involved?" Harry asked, blushing slightly but smiling mischievously nonetheless. Draco couldn't contain the triumphant smirk which crept up on his face, and to hide it he buried his head in his script under the pretext of reading it.

"You know," he said in a muffled voice. "Our characters kiss practically every time they lay eyes on each other. I think from now one you should assume the answer is 'yes', you are going to get some action if we are on stage together."

"Get some action?" Harry repeated, and Draco didn't need to look to know he was smirking at Draco's colloquial phrase. "Because I wouldn't be getting any anyway?"

Draco didn't lift his eyes off the page to nod. "Certainly not." he said in a distracted voice. "No, I stand corrected." he said finally, putting down the script.

"That doesn't surprise me, but exactly what are you wrong about now?" Harry asked. Draco snorted. "Actually I'm very rarely wrong _Potter_. It's one of the side effects of having superior intelligence."

"Superior intelligence?" Harry said scornfully.

"Excuse me, but I was second in the year for six years, seconded only by Granger." Draco shot back. Harry stared.

"Were you really?" he asked with an offending amount of surprise. Draco smirked.

"Yes. And what were you - scraping average?"

Harry shrugged, not at all offended. "Pretty much. So what were you wrong about? Like the dragon name thing yesterday, we've completely gone off at a tangent."

"It is very easy to do that, talking to you." Draco agreed. Indeed, he was  
surprised at how easy it was to talk to Harry - perhaps it was only after six years of Crabbe and Goyle. They weren't exactly the world's best conversationalists.

"I was wrong - there is no kissing in today's scene," he continued, lowering his voice. Considering they had started off murmuring, as so not to draw attention to their new friendship, their voices had risen to quite a volume.

The sag of disappointment on Harry's face was almost imperceptible, but Draco noticed. He suddenly felt very warm inside.

"I'm sure we'll be able to make up for it later." Draco murmured softly, his eyes following Professor Daley as she walked in. He did not need to look at Harry to know he had just emitted a contented sigh. Draco felt like doing just the same.

For the first time in a great many months, Draco felt something dangerously like happiness.

**This chapter was brought to you by today's Year 11 Maths, the bane of my existence and stimulant of my imagination.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Twelve**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

As the class fell silent, Harry leaned back away from Draco. He glanced at Ron on his other side, who was staring agape at him.

"Mate, what was that?" he asked weakly, his eyes flicking between Harry and Draco.

"What?" Harry asked cautiously. Had he and Draco been talking that loudly?

"You and Malfoy..." Ron said with a pained expression. Harry's heart beat picked up. Surely not... Not Ron... He couldn't know...

"I-er-" Harry said awkwardly, whilst Ron watched him with wide eyes. "We were just talking..." he said, playing for time.

"I know but you seemed, well, friendly!" Ron said defensively. "That's not right! That's Malfoy!" he said, a little louder. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco's sleek blonde head turn in their direction.

Ron appeared to notice too, and his ears turned red.  
"I'm just saying mate..." he mumbled, turning back to the front. Harry resisted the urge to turn around and gauge Draco's reaction; instead he looked past Ron to Hermione.

She didn't look at all surprised at Ron's reaction, and merely raised her eyebrows inquisitively at Harry's look. Harry shook his head in return, and turned to look to the front and listen to whatever Professor Daley was blethering on about.

"- so can I have those people on stage?" she finished, looking hopefully out over the classroom. Harry looked back, alarmed. He had no idea which names had preceded that sentence.

He glanced at Draco for help, who shrugged back.  
"Boys?" Professor Daley asked weakly. Harry squinted; he couldn't quite see who she was looking at. However when Draco slowly slid to his feet next to him and Harry watched his slender, tall body saunter the front, he could only assume he was the one who was to follow Draco.

If there was something happening that involved Draco and another classmate, chances were that said classmate was Harry, he acknowledged with his eyes pinned on the white blond head that he was fast becoming fixated on.

Draco shot him a bored look when Harry joined him on stage. Harry rolled his eyes back, knowing that to do more than that would arouse suspicion.

Oh, to be in a boarding school where his relationship had to be kept private.

Relationship? he wondered suddenly. Was that what he was involved in? The term 'friends with benefits' seemed impossible to apply to Draco Malfoy.

"Mr Potter?" Daley asked tentatively, disrupting his thoughts. He looked up, surprised. He had been staring into space for an embarrassingly long time it would seem, thinking about Draco.

He hurriedly looked down at his script, not failing to miss Draco's smirk.

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." Harry began. "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief."  
At the word 'pale' he risked a glance at Draco, who smiled sheepishly. Hoping that no one saw their interchange, Harry continued to read.

"It is my lady, O, it is my love!"

This elicited a few sniggers from the immature beings in the classroom; Harry ignored them as he watched Draco's eyes widen slightly at the words 'my love'. Smirking to himself, he read on.

"See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might t-touch that cheek!" Harry said, stuttering - much to his mortification - over the word 'touch'.  
It was agony to have to read seductive lines to Draco in front of everyone else, when he meant them just as much as Romeo did.

"Ay me!" Draco said quietly, apparently reluctant to put any effort into reading his lines.

"She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel!" Harry said, and there was a moment of silence before someone - Harry suspected Seamus - snorted, and broke the silence as everyone else joined him.

Harry ignored them once more, and locked his gaze on Draco. This was it. The most significant romantic lines of the play. He wanted to watch Draco's reaction as he read them to him.

Flushing dully, Draco dropped his gaze from where it had been resting on Harry and read his lines.

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" he said. His voice was quiet but strong, and the room fell dead silent. Harry found he could not look away from him, could not look away from this beautiful boy.

"Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet." Draco said, not looking up from the paper, however Harry could still hear the broken emotion in his voice.

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" Harry whispered. He found he could not care how it sounded to the rest of the class; this moment was his and Draco's.

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague?" Draco asked quietly, and in his head Harry substituted the word 'Montague' for 'Potter' as he was sure Malfoy did.

"It is not hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man!" Draco said, his eyes flicking momentarily to Harry's crotch. Harry snorted softly.

"O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Draco whispered fervently, finally dragging his eyes off the paper to meet Harry's, and at that precise moment Harry could have sworn his heart stopped.

Draco's eyes were as he'd never seen them, even when they were kissing they were never this- this- emotional, powerful, burning. They implored Harry to see the double meaning behind his words, and it hit him so hard he felt quite weak. Draco was the rose. A Malfoy by another name would smell as sweet, he thought bitterly.

"So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee take all myself." Draco finished in a slightly louder voice.

"By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: my name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee;" Harry said hoarsely, and in that moment you could have heard a pin drop.

Everyone in the room knew the name Potter was an enemy to the Malfoys. No one knew that better than Harry himself, after all he had met the hated Lucius Malfoy on more than one painful occasion. And now he just so happened to be seducing his son. Oops.

"Had I it written, I would tear the word." Harry said, his heart still beating at a rather unnatural pace.

"If they do see thee, they will murder thee." Draco muttered warningly.

"I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;" Harry said, a vision of the Invisibility cloak suddenly flashing into his head, and he felt a bizarre desire to laugh.

"And but thou love me, let them find me here: my life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love." he continued, noticing Draco's tiny sneer at Romeo's words.

"Dost thou love me?" Draco asked softly, and Harry's heart thudded.  
"I know thou wilt say "Ay," and I will take thy word, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully." Draco said in a pleading tone. Harry noticed he was now putting feeling into his words; it seemed an unconscious action.

"Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—" Harry said, gesturing around them to invisible trees. He heard Ron and Seamus titter.

"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable." Draco said, and Harry understood. Juliet did not want Romeo to swear his love by the moon because it was forever changing.

"What shall I swear by?" he asked. He noticed Hermione appear silently on stage, out of the corner of his eye.

"Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee." Draco said, glancing at Hermione too. Harry thought absently that it was a mark of how much Draco had changed that he did not wrinkle his nose at the sight of a Muggle born.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." Draco said, looking directly at Harry with a heart stopping look in his eyes, and for one wild moment, Harry truly believed he was saying those words about _him_. That Draco loved him.

Harry stared back, his hands sweating over his script. Their eyes were locked as they had been so many times over the years, but this time it involved a lot of desire, Harry could see it burning in his eyes.

_Mamihlapinatapai_, a voice in his mind that sounded an awful lot like Hermione's added. _A look shared by two people, each wishing the other would offer something they desire-_

"Juliet!" Hermione called, and the moment was shattered; Draco turned away to look at her and Harry was left staring at the back of his head with burning cheeks.

"I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again." Draco promised, and Harry noticed for the first time that his cheeks were flushed too.

He walked to the edge of the stage to join Hermione, who was watching Harry intently with raised eyebrows. Harry gulped.

"O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial." Harry said, and he reflected for a brief moment that this was how he felt about Draco too. He was scared it wouldn't last, it was too bloody good.

"Three words, dear Romeo,  
and good night indeed." Draco began quickly.

"If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, by one that I'll procure to come to thee.  
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world." Draco said somewhat breathlessly, and Harry could do nothing but stare as he heard the pale boy propose marriage to him.  
He felt a smile creep across his face; he couldn't help it.

"Madam!" Hermione called, once more shattering the moment, a little more irritable than Harry thought was necessary.

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." Draco said softly, giving Harry a look full of feeling, and suddenly Harry was transported to the top of a windy tower-

_A soft call-"Good night," Draco slowly turning around, his grey eyes all the more piercing in the pale light- a heartbreaking smirk- "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow."- a devious smile- a retreating white blond head and the ghost of a kiss on his cheek-_

"And cut!"  
.-.

Caught in the rush of students to leave the room, Harry found himself pressed uncomfortably against Draco Malfoy's back. Draco turned around with an irritated sneer, but when he saw who it was, dropped it for just long enough to wink at Harry. He sneered at him again.

"Watch yourself Potty!" he snapped, his grey eyes flashing. Harry scowled back. "Whatever, ferret." The surrounding people sniggered appreciatively, and once they had turned away, apparently satisfied that nothing more was going to happen, Harry felt a light squeeze on his hand, unseen by anyone in the crowd.

"When can I meet you?" Harry whispered urgently.

Draco's eyes met his and searched them for a second.

"Lunch. By the lake." he said shortly. They were pushed out of the classroom, where Ron and Hermione were patiently waiting for Harry. Harry cast one last look at Draco, unwilling to leave him.

"Get in trouble in Transfiguration. You'll be moved to the front with me." Draco muttered rapidly, before turning on his heel and quickly striding ahead, past a staring Ron and Hermione.

"Transfiguration?" Harry asked brightly.

**Thoughts on this chapter? I know there's a lot of Shakespearian language, but it was the balcony scene - kind of necessary to include it, but tell me what you thought k?**

**You can read ****_Clarity_****, too. :)**

**((or write the 100th review for _A Match Made In Hell?_)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

The next week passed without much event.  
Draco and Harry managed to snag the odd half hour at lunchtime together and steal kisses in deserted corridors, but nonetheless this did not satisfied the aching want and desire that both boys harboured. They were eighteen, after all.

Kept apart in English by a series of scenes that did not involve them, Draco found himself wishing the play would get to a more... _saucy_ part soon. It was strange to think that not three weeks ago he had been dreading the torture that kissing Harry Potter would be. Now it couldn't come soon enough.

At least these were his thoughts when he was gazing across a sunny classroom - perhaps in Transfigurations or Charms - at Harry, admiring the very way the boy moved.

But late at night, when he was alone with the darkness, doubt would creep in. He would wonder what on earth he was doing. Every night he would reach a point at which he was convinced he was going to break it off with Harry, his father's old words ringing in his ears.

It was utter madness. After eight years of being hopelessly in love with the boy, he'd decides to start kissing him - the only rival he'd ever had, his natural equal.

The boy who once ripped his skin to shreds.  
Which part of that made sense?

Draco Malfoy was a troubled boy - who made a very good show of hiding it.

But he was also a selfish one, and he ignored the persistent doubts in his mind and followed his heart (if he had one) and allowed himself to become one hundred percent infatuated with Harry Potter.

.-.

Harry Potter had reinstated an old hobby, much to Ron's irritation.

Every night the Marauder's Map would come out and Harry would fall asleep watching the name Draco Malfoy, perhaps pacing around the corridors or moving around in his dormitory.

He couldn't explain to a curious Ron why he did it; Draco was deemed completely trustworthy by Harry now, and so Harry didn't really have an acceptable reason for watching him other than it was strangely comforting.

Harry walked in the common room that night to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny all gathered round, talking in low voices. Harry had a sneaking suspicion he was the topic, and sped his walking up slightly in an effort to overhear them.

"-about it?- Hi, Harry!" Hermione said, ending her sentence very quickly, confirming Harry's suspicions. He smiled innocently at her, sitting down in the only available seat, unfortunately next to Ginny.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

"Ron you still haven't given me that book back! I insist on going to get it back myself!" Hermione said suddenly, giving Ron a meaningful look.

Ron blinked, bewildered.

"Come and show me where it is?" Hermione said pointedly.

"What book?- OH! That book. I- er- yes." Ron said awkwardly, climbing to his feet and following Hermione to the dormitory, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. Harry smiled weakly at her.

"I think they wanted some time alone!" Ginny said with a tinkling laugh. "I dread to think what they'll be getting up to!"

Harry had a more shrewd and cynical idea of what Ron and Hermione would be doing - discussing him - but he pretended to agree with Ginny nonetheless.

"So..." Harry said, clearing his throat and glancing surreptitiously around the shared eighth year common room, trying to spy a certain teenage boy.

Silence fell once more and Harry idly wondered when his and Ginny's friendship had reached this desperately awkward point.

"How come you're in the eighth year common room?" he asked, for lack of anything else to say. Ginny shrugged.

"Ron and Hermione let me in - do you mind dreadfully?" she asked with a giggle.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, an action he had recently been doing increasingly more as he spent time around Draco.

"It's fine." he said tiredly. He glanced vaguely at her pink, girly earrings, and caught himself thinking how repulsive they were.  
Yes, he definitely wasn't a lady's man anymore, if indeed he ever was.

The vile colour put him in mind of the Pygmy Puff Ginny used to have. "What happened to your Pygmy Puff?" he asked, desperately casting around for a topic to fill the silence.

"Oh, Arnold? Baby Teddy has him. I think Arnold prefers him more than me." she said with an airy laugh, flicking her long hair over her shoulder in what Harry sincerely hoped wasn't meant to be an alluring action.

.-.

After bading goodbye to a disappointed Ginny, Harry practically sprinted to the Great Hall to have early dinner. He knew Ron and Hermione weren't there but frankly he'd rather sit alone than with Ginny. Plus, if breakfast was anything to go by, he had a sneaking suspicion Draco had an early dinner to avoid the main bulk of students.

Upon arriving he found he'd seriously overestimated how early the food appeared on the table; the dishes were all still empty when he arrived and only a few dozen people were milling around, one of whom was Luna Lovegood, sat alone at the Ravenclaw table.

"Good evening." Luna said serenely as he approached her, beaming when he took a seat next to her.

"How are you, Luna?" Harry asked, welcoming a conversation that would hopefully not involve any undercurrents of suspicion or awkwardness.

"A bit lonely, actually." Luna said honestly. Harry frowned.

"Why?"

"Ginny's been rather different this year. At first I suspected Wrackspurts, but now I think otherwise." Luna said dreamily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Oh." said Harry, understanding completely. "I'm sorry to hear that. Well you've always got us and Neville, Luna."

Luna turned her great eyes on him. "Oh I know," she assured him. "So what is new with you, Harry?" she asked seriously.

"Er-"  
What wasn't new with him would be a better question, he thought ruefully. He settled on the most acceptable answer.

"Well, have you heard about my lead role in Romeo and Juliet?" he asked half jokingly.

Luna nodded. "Yes, Daddy has told me all about that story. It was originally written by Ingrid the Inspired, but the story was stolen from him by a Muggle, William Shakespeare-"

"No." Harry interrupted firmly. "There was no Ingrid the Inspired involved - it was all written by William Shakespeare."

Luna raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

"He wrote other stories too," Harry offered hopefully.

"Like what?" Luna asked skeptically.

"Er - A Midsummer Night's Dream?" Harry said.

"What's that about?" Luna asked, sounding interested.

Harry scrabbled through his primary school memories to recount the story.

"Well I think there's two girls and two boys - Hermia, Helena, Lysander-"

"Ooh!" Luna broke in excitedly. "Is that really a name? How lovely... Lysander..."

Harry stared at her for a few seconds, half amused and half bewildered, unsure which feeling to act on. He settled on chuckling affectionately and letting his eyes stray from the girl next to him for the first time.

He instinctively looked towards the Slytherin table, to see if his predictions would be correct - and sure enough, there he was, the boy who was fascinating Harry more and more every day.

Muttering goodbye to a dazed Luna, Harry cautiously weaved his way between the tables to enter the snake pit - Slytherin territory.

.-.

Draco, whose eyes had been pinned on Harry throughout his time in the hall, stared in surprise as Harry braved the hostile glares just to come and see _him_; instantly his mood lifted and he felt immensely smug.

"Isn't this going to arouse suspicion?" he murmured the moment Harry was within hearing distance. "As far as the school is aware, we still hate each other."

He saw Harry frown, then reach behind him into the bag hanging from his shoulder. He wrestled with something in it for a second or two, before emerging clutching a script. Draco saw immediately what Harry's excuse for sitting with him was.

Draco arched an eyebrow.  
"Practice lines _now_, Potter?" he asked in a loud drawl, making sure the surrounding people could here.

"You're keen, aren't you?" he sneered coldly, and Harry stuck his tongue out at him as he sat down, pretending to read his script. They grinned at each other once everyone had looked away.

"You've had quite a busy day."  
The words left Draco's mouth before he could stop them.

Harry frowned in confusion at him.

"What?"

"First the Weaselette, now Loony Lovegood... and here was me thinking you didn't like girls." Draco said in what he hoped was a playful manner.

Harry's expression cleared with understanding. "Ah I see... you were jealous."

Draco flushed a furious red. "No!" he said quickly, his pride flaring up. "I was not jealous _Potter_."

Harry smirked at him; Draco's cheeks lost their colour and his lips twitched.

"I didn't know you were watching." Harry murmured as he helped himself the food which had suddenly appeared.

Draco shrugged indifferently. He was always watching.

"So tell me, have you ever heard of Ingrid the Inspired?"

**So a break from the Shakespearean stuff which I think was in order. I know this chapter was short but I plan to update Sunday and it was either one big chapter then, or two shorter ones. So...**

**For those who care, I have at least five new story ideas, so it is fairly safe to say you won't be getting me to shut up anytime soon. :)**

**Reviews=happy girl= faster writing.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**_"And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew_**

Harry's mouth was captured by Draco's, and he groaned as all the tension seeped away from him - it was remarkable how quickly Draco's mouth soothed him. He responded without even thinking, one hand flying automatically to the back of Draco's head knotting into the blonde hair, pressing him ever closer, the other raking his back.

"Good grief," Draco managed to say between sloppy, hot kisses. "How-" he caught Harry's lip with his teeth before sucking gently on it. "-are-" he kissed more insistently still. "-you so-" he panted, diving in for another kiss, apparently unable to say more than a couple of words without kissing Harry. "-fucking _sexy_?" he asked between ragged breaths, hurriedly reattaching his lips to Harry's.

Harry revelled in the thought that Draco couldn't bear to keep his lips away from Harry's. It felt so amazing to be so wanted-

All coherent thought was lost when Draco's tongue took advantage of the open mouthed kiss to slide in along Harry's and tangle them together in a way that obliterated any thought of anything else and made arousal curl up from Harry's stomach-

"Urgh-" Harry said in a strangled moan, tugging insistently at the white blond hair. It was surreal, standing here in a deserted corridor kissing his arch rival with a raw passion, and loving every second spent when all he could see, head and think was _Draco Malfoy_-

"Say it again," Draco hissed between ragged pants, pulling away from Harry's mouth but not away from him altogether, his lips brushing gently over Harry's cheek and the corner of his mouth as he spoke. It seemed as if Draco couldn't bear to be apart from Harry, even for a second or by an inch.

Harry realised vaguely he must have said _Draco Malfoy_ out loud, but he didn't have the capacity for embarrassment right now. He murmured it again fervently, and Draco responded with a low moan, his body arching and pressing against Harry's beautifully.

Their bodies melded together perfectly against the stone wall, entwined in each other's arms, hot mouths and tongues seeking each other desperately, hands roaming over bodies and names murmured passionately-

When the kissing eventually slowed, Draco took to gently kissing up Harry's jawline, his eyelashes gently brushing Harry's cheekbones, their fingers laced together and hands pushed against the wall by their heads.

Harry was quite happy to he held prisoner in this way, as Draco proceeded to kiss along his cheekbones, his nose, his eyelid, his scar, where Draco's lips lingered with the gentlest pressure-

Harry felt completely content in that second, with Draco's body pressed against his own, the taller and pale boy kissing him insistently with a passion Harry didn't know he contained.

Draco drew his lips back from Harry for the first time in what felt like hours, and Harry was able to look at him fully.

His beautifully angular cheekbones were flushed pink, his pure white blond hair was tousled in a way that suggested something exciting had just happened, and the eyes which Harry had once seen flash cold grey were now looking at him with such fiery passion and intensity Harry felt unable to look away from the emotions which swirled there, so unusually close to the surface for a Malfoy.

Draco gave him a shaky but beautiful smile as his breathing slowly returned to normal, gently extracting himself from Harry's limbs, looking loathe to do so.

"That was..." Draco began, for once lost for words.

Harry kissed him briefly and nodded to show he understood; they exchanged looks of longing before slowly turning and departing their separate ways, as to avoid suspicion, feet dragging sadly.

.-.

Harry knew he was in trouble the minute he went in the common room. He only had to look at Hermione's mulish expression.

"Is Ron coming?" he asked hopefully.  
"No he is not! Because he's running the Quidditch practice _you_ were meant to be running!" she exclaimed, jabbing his chest with her finger.

"Fuck!" Harry swore, rubbing his forehead. How could he have forgotten? He was captain-!

"What on earth were you doing?" Hermione asked in an irritated tone, her dark eyebrows arched.

_Shit_. Harry's mind was blank; what could he have been doing that was perfectly innocent?

"I'll tell you what you were doing." Hermione cut in, jabbing her finger at him again. "You were sticking your tongue down Draco Malfoy's throat!"

Harry froze, his mouth open in a perfect 'o'. He wordlessly watched Hermione's expression turn smug, unsure how to react.

"I- no I wasn't!" he said, deciding to go on the defensive. He fervently hoped he wasn't blushing.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "_Harry James Potter._ I have known you for eight years. I am one of the few people who know you best in the world. Please don't insult my intelligence."

Harry sank down into an armchair next to her.  
"How long have you known?" he asked weakly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I've suspected for a week or two. But tonight confirmed it."

"Tonight?" Harry asked, his heart and mind racing. What had happened tonight? Had they been seen-?

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. She pointed to the portrait hole. "Draco Malfoy walked through there not two minutes ago, flushed, ruffled and looking extremely pleased with himself. And then two minutes later you walk in looking exactly the same."

Harry couldn't help but snort with laughter at this summary, and after a few seconds of looking stern, Hermione's lips were twitching and soon she was giggling too.

"Does Ron know?" he asked anxiously when the giggles subsided. He gave a big sigh of relief when she shook her bushy head.

"I can't believe I forgot the practice." he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He heard Hermione _tsk_ somewhere above him.

"Well, neither could Ron. He was pretty cross." she commented lightly.

"The Slytherin match is tomorrow!" Harry realised with another groan, sinking back into the cushions in despair.

At the same time, his mind was racing. In two days he would be playing Seeker against Draco, one on one, their amicable first match-

His thoughts were disturbed my Hermione's quiet chuckle.

"Gryffindor missed their captain and Seeker in the final practice before the Slytherin match because he was kissing the Slytherin captain? Sounds rather convenient to me."

There was a moment's silence, then-

"I'll kill that bloody ferret."

.-.

"Still using underhand tactics are we?" Harry asked in an undertone as he followed Draco out of the common room the next morning. He'd had to sit conspicuously in the chair by the door for half an hour to be able to do so, but it would be worth the few snatched minutes on the way to breakfast.

"I don't know what you mean." Draco said smoothly, as they simultaneously turned and descended the stone staircase together, scarlet and emerald Quidditch robes flying.

"No? Nothing like - oh I don't know - kissing the Gryffindor captain senseless so that he misses practice?" Harry asked, his voice echoing around the empty eighth year stairwell.

Draco smirked at him, his grey eyes sparkling. Harry pushed him playfully.

"You think that's bad Potter, just you wait until we're on the pitch." Draco sneered, rather ruined by the fact that he was unable to keep the teasing tone out of his voice.

"Fighting talk, Malfoy." Harry marvelled. "Let's see if you're just as big as your talk."

There was a moment's silence as Harry realised the unintentional innuendo.

"Oh you'll see, Potter." Draco said quietly, and quickly strode away as they entered the congested corridor.

.-.

Breakfast was a half hearted affair for both Harry and Ron. Ron was suffering his usual last minute nerves, whimpering the usual admissions that he would quit the team straight after the match, and claiming a churning stomach - which Harry believed as Ron didn't even touch his sausages, which was a rare occurrence.

Harry was distracted because for once, he was eating his breakfast at the same time as Draco, and he was strangely loathe to focus on toast when he could watch Draco interact with other Slytherins instead - or not interact, as the case was. He watched as Draco leant back whenever anyone stretched across him for a dish, continuously moving away from any potential touches, the action looking natural and well repeated. Harry watched with a strong feeling of pity as Draco sat silently, ignored by all, looking utterly woebegone.

"Stop it."

Harry started at the vehement hiss, and turned to see Hermione looking at him meaningfully.

"Could you make it any more obvious? Stop mooning over him." she said, hissing so rapidly it sounded like a continuous noise.

Harry rolled his eyes but conceded her point; he regretfully turned away and poured himself some more orange juice.

Ten minutes later he couldn't help but notice as Draco rose to leave with his team, as gracefully as ever, and Harry followed suit.

"Team!" he called, and various scarlet figures up and down the table rose from their places and trooped out of the hall to encouraging cheers, Ron moaning softly all the while. Harry noticed Hermione quietly taking him to the side to say something before they left.

They gathered in the changing room, and Harry cleared his throat.

"Right, team." he started, looking round at them all. The team remained unchanged from sixth year, save for a new Chaser Natalie McDonald, and he was proud of them. They were strong, determined, and unlike the Slytherin team, they played united, as an actual team. This differed from their opponents in that they pointedly ignored their captain whenever possible.

"This will be a tough match." he admitted. "But certainly not impossible. We are perfectly capable of winning this - we are just as strong as they are. Now, I know I wasn't in practice yesterday," he glanced shiftily at Ron, who nodded grimly. "But the Layering Formation we were practicing has been really effective so far, so I want to see a lot of that from the Chasers."

Demelza, Ginny and Natalie nodded. Harry looked next to Peakes and Coote. "Slytherin's new Beaters, Baddock and Morrison are as all Slytherin Beaters are - their policy is to hit as many Gryffindors as they can. Normally I'd say try and be tactical with your Bludgers, but today," he grinned mischievously, "Give as good as you get."

They nodded, grinning too, and Harry turned finally to Ron. Thankfully, the rest of the team seemed to melt away, and he could talk to Ron.

"Ron, mate-" he began quietly, but Ron cut him off.

"It's fine, Harry, really. I feel like I can do it now." he said earnestly, and Harry privately thought this would be down to what Hermione might have said to encourage him, and he shuddered.

Outside he heard a whistle, and he swallowed hard as he took the lead in front of his team, and walked out into streaming sunlight.

Harry could barely fight the smile off his face as he walked forward to tumultuous cheers, and directly opposite him was a tall pale boy, leading his own emerald clad team. Harry's heart was beating as he gazed at Draco, and Draco gazed back, their houses standing behind both of them, one scarlet, one emerald.

Harry was barely listening to Madam Hooch as she called for the captains to shake hands, all he was aware of how perfect it was that the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were standing, opposed, behind he and Draco, and they were the ones to walk forward to meet in the middle.

Draco was drawing closer, a tiny smile playing around his lips that only Harry could see, the morning sunlight making his hair and skin look beautifully pale and translucent.

They came to a stop, and Draco extended one slender hand. Harry looked at it, momentarily caught up in a very similar memory.

_"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."  
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.  
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly._

"Join the wrong sort, Potter." Draco murmured, and Harry felt his heart leap with a mingled feeling of surprise and joy; Draco remembered every word too. He firmly grasped Draco's hand and shook it, not failing to notice the squeeze Draco gave him, nor the wink which just about melted his heart.

Then they mounted their brooms, and the whistle blew; the match had begun.

.-.

It was a tiresome sort of match, Harry reflected from his stationary position high in the air, watching Slytherin score again, making the score even once more, 60-60, also giving the commentator Zacharius Smith little to criticise.

Neither team was strong enough to pull ahead from the other, and ironically it seemed to be one of the matches that depended entirely on the Seekers.

His eyes were scanning the pitch to no avail; not at all helped by Draco Malfoy who was doing his best, and suceeding, in distracting him. He was doing laps of the pitch, and every time he came past Harry he would fly so close to his back the air would be disturbed and Harry would wobble in the air. He would swear, and hear a cackle of laughter as the white and green blur zoomed past him.

Underhand tactics, indeed.

Harry decided to heed his own advice, and give as good as he got. He quickly set off on Draco's tail, instantly revelling in the _whoosh_ of air, and the speed of his Firebolt which turned everything but what he focused on - Draco - into mere blurs.

Draco very quickly realised he had Harry on his tail, and sent him a smirk that clearly said '_So that's how you want to play?_'.

Draco looped up and around, dived low and instantly cut upwards, Harry following him keenly all the while. He felt truly exhilarated-

"And it seems that the Slytherin and Gryffindor Seekers - and also captains may I remind you - are playing _chase_ with each other." Zacharius Smith's amused drawl echoed out over the stands.

"It would appear that they are more interested in each other than the Snitch, which is a shame really, because even I can see it's hovering in plain view above Chaser Demelza Robins's head-"

Harry froze instantly, his head snapping to a wide eyed Demelza, and sure enough the Golden Snitch was glinting just above her in the sunlight. Without pausing for a second, Harry immediately shot off, urging his Firebolt faster and faster as he rapidly approached Demelza, who dodged out of the way at the last moment, as he was inches away-

Suddenly a furious hand knocked his away, and Harry growled as the Snitch danced tantalisingly close, just out of his reach because a pale hand was tugging his sleeve, holding him back-

"Get _out_ of it, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, knocking sideways into Draco in an effort to push him away, but he knew it was no good, Draco was just as good a Seeker as he-

"Not this time, Potter!" Draco spat, and Harry saw an emerald sleeve extend right before his eyes, ready to snatch the Snitch, and in his fury he wrenched his sleeve free and in the split second before Draco realised what had happened, Harry knocked Draco's unprotected outstretched hand away and brushed the golden ball- but it was too far away to seize-

Perhaps in a bid to escape, the Snitch jumped suddenly, and Harry and Draco scrabbled wildly-

-and Harry caught the fluttering ball in his hand, with Draco's hand knocking pointlessly against his own. No one but them knew what had happened; Harry distantly heard a whistle blow to signal another scored goal, for who he didn't know, whilst everyone else was oblivious as to who had actually won, he or Draco-

Harry pumped his fist into the air, and the action caused an explosion; cheers and screams erupted, the scarlet side of the stadium leapt up in their joy, and Harry grinned widely as the whistle blew for one last time.

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch!" Zacharius Smith announced, sounding sorely disappointed. "One hundred and fifty pints to Gryffindor- Gryffindor win!"

This sparked a second round of wild cheers, and Harry hovered in mid air, grinning and panting. He turned to look at Draco: he too was panting, his cheeks were flushed dull pink, and strands of blonde hair were all over his forehead. Resisting the urge to sweep them away, Harry settled for grinning at him, not caring that the whole school could see him.

"Well played." he said, and Draco's pained, tired expression broke into a smirk.

"Says you. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you won Potty, after all you are the _Chosen One_..."

Harry smacked him good naturedly, and they flew to the ground where an argument seemed to be taking place between Peakes and Baddock, with Madam Hooch trying pointlessly to intervene.

"It was scored _after_ he caught the Snitch-" Peakes was arguing, his face an angry red. Harry went to stand behind him.

"_Before_-"

"_After_!"

"Stop, boys!" Madam Hooch finally shouted. "It makes no difference anyway - but I agree it was scored before-" Baddock jeered and Peakes slammed his broomstick down angrily.

"Come on!" he shouted at her. "Aren't you even going to tell _him_ off-" he pointed at Draco, "for tugging on Harry's robe to hold him back? That's cheating that is!" he exclaimed.

"I never saw it," Madam Hooch said dismissively.

"It's fine anyway-" Harry began weakly, but Draco seemed not to hear him, as he advanced on Peakes, his pointed face contorted angrily in a familiar fashion, his grey eyes cold and flashing. This was no longer the funny and sarcastic Draco Harry knew, but the angry and menacing Malfoy of his youth.

"Say that again," he said warningly, ignoring Harry's quiet pleas from behind Peakes to stop.

"You're a cheater, and a traitor, and you should be locked up in Azkaban!" Peakes spat, and Draco snapped.

"Fuck you!" he growled, pulling his wand out of his pocket, and Harry saw to his horror Peakes rush forward, brandishing his Beater's bat-

-and Harry dodged around Peakes and seized Draco, pulling him roughy out of the way of danger-

-and fourteen pairs of shocked eyes turned to stare as the Gryffindor captain betrayed his team mate to protect the Slytherin.

**yeyz. so yeah I said I would update on Sunday but by Sunday night it wasn't really long enough so I decided to treat you (hah) and double the chapter's length.**

**and now I have something to ask of you - yes ****_you_****, sitting there reading this. I had an entire list of other 30 Drarry stories I had to read, but then bloody ios7 came out and wiped all my Bookmarks, so I don't have a single one.  
So can ****_you_**** recommend a nice long, well written Drarry story please (preferably one of those ones which really sucks you in, if you get what I mean)-**

**I really need to build up a list once more and I shall be eternally grateful - in fact I'll shoutout everyone in the next chapter who recommends one in the reviews. Thx :))**


	15. Chapter 15

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

"Harry!"  
"_Harry!_"  
"Harry-?"

The last voice, despite being the quietest, was the worst of all and Harry stared frozen at Ron's betrayed expression.

His name was echoed around the small gathering on the pitch; the people in the stands hadn't realised what had happened yet. Harry slowly let of his clutch on Draco's arm, who backed away the minute he was released, putting space between them as if that would help the situation.

Desperate words began rushing from Harry before he could stop them.  
"A Beater's bat could have killed him- or given him concussion- I would have done the same for anyone-" he said pleadingly, mainly looking at Ron. Ron looked utterly bewildered.

"Harry..." he mumbled. "I don't understand... I thought you hated Malfoy!" he grew more aggressive, and jabbed his finger at Harry angrily. "I thought you hated Malfoy!" he shouted, and out of the corner of his eye, through the panic, Harry saw Hermione running over. Harry immediately foresaw what she would interpret from Ron's shout-

He opened his mouth to quickly explain what had happened, but Ron cut him off, bellowing, his face as red as his robes.

"You were always obsessed with him weren't you!" Ron accused, and Harry's heart sunk as he mentally prayed Ron wouldn't make the situation worse by saying what he thought he would-

"You stalked him all through sixth year!" Ron yelled, brushing off Hermione's concerned hand on his arm. Harry saw Draco move out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how on earth he was going to explain the stalking.

"I just let you get on with it, thought you had a decent reason, cause it's Harry Potter, innit? Look at you now!" he shouted. "Rushing to defend him after a few poncy acting classes!" he sneered horribly, and Harry saw the side of Ron he had only seen twice before, twisted and jealous.

"Why is this news to you Ron?" he fired back, fueled with anger. "You already knew we were more friendly than before!"

"Yeah but I never thought you'd defend him instead of a Gryffindor! Well I guess where we know where your loyalties lie now, eh? Forget eight years of being a Gryffindor, a month with a Slytherin and now we all know where you _belong_." he hissed.

"Ron, stop!" Hermione begged, and Harry saw that she had tears running down her face. "You don't mean this, stop-"

"Yes I do, Hermione!" Ron shouted, pointing at Harry and Draco, who had mutely walked forward to stand protectively by Harry's side, tall, pale, imposing yet comforting. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder opposite everyone else.

Whispers were circulating both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams, but Harry could only watch Ron.  
Ron was breathing heavily, different emotions flickering through his face. He finally stormed away, across the empty pitch and into the changing rooms. Hermione gave Harry a final apologetic look before rushing after him.

Harry quickly glanced at Draco, and saw he was still standing protectively by his side, glaring fiercely at the whisperers.  
"Let's go." Harry muttered, tugging at the green fabric at Draco's elbow, and Draco immediately followed him off the pitch, thankfully not remarking on what had just happened.

.-.  
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Draco asked a few hours later as they stood outside the portrait hole. Harry, who felt steadied by the hours he'd just spent in Draco's comforting arms, nodded.

"Maybe I should go in alone?" he asked tentatively, and Draco nodded, quickly checked up and down the corridor, and leaned in to place a feather light kiss on Harry's lips.  
"I'll be standing by to protect you," he murmured against them, and Harry leant his forehead against Draco's for a second before drawing enough courage to go in.

The room did not fall silent as he expected it to; apparently the news that Harry Potter was now friends with Draco Malfoy either hadn't spread or just wasn't that interesting.

Harry did, however, receive one stony glare, and that was from one red head by the fire. Harry slowly walked over, twisting his hands together nervously.

"Ron?" he asked quietly once he was by the occupied chair. Ron's eyes narrowed and he scowled.

"What?" he snapped. Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly.

"I can be friends with both you and Dr- Malfoy, can't I?" he asked tentatively, running a hand through his messy hair. "I can easily divide my time between everyone-"

"I'm not pissed about you having a new friend, Harry." Ron interrupted coolly, his voice low and angry. "I'm pissed because it's bloody Malfoy." He jumped out of his chair to tower over Harry. "Do you know what that git's father did to Ginny? Or I suppose you don't care about her anymore, not now that you've broken up-"

"Dr- Malfoy is nothing like his father!" Harry fired back, hot anger coursing through his blood.  
"They were both Death Eaters, that makes them pretty similar to me!" Ron spat, shouting now. "He was one of those that killed my brother, Harry! But what do you care, Fred was never your brother-"

And now Harry really saw red. "He may as well have been!" He yelled back, incensed. "Do you think I didn't love Fred as much as you did? Didn't consider him as my brother? Because I did Ron, damnit, but it wasn't Malfoy that killed him!" he shouted, barely noticing that the common room had fell silent.

"My parents were killed by Death Eaters too! Malfoy's own aunt killed Sirius! But I know that wasn't him, which is why I got _over_ it and now we're friends! Maybe you should get over it too!" he finished, instantly regretting the words as he said them. The situation had got out of control once more, but he couldn't help it now.

He turned on his heel and spotted Draco lurking anxiously in the recesses by the portrait hole, his usual black clothes camouflaging him in the shadows, and he didn't hesitate before grabbing his sleeve and pulling the boy out with him.

"Well that went about as well as can be expected." Draco said quietly as they strode down the corridor away from the common room.

"Oh god," Harry said, slumping against the wall in the deserted corridor, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry," Draco said sincerely a moment later, and Harry was so surprised he lifted his head out of his hands.

"For what?"  
"Losing you your best friend." Draco said soberly. "I know how that feels..." his voice trailed off sadly, and Harry was so overcome with pity for this boy that had lost so much, that he wound his arms around his waist, and the boys held each other, comforted by the steady beating of the other's heart against their chest.

"I hardly think I'm worth it." Draco whispered, his voice somewhere above Harry.

"I wouldn't have fallen out with my best friend if you weren't worth it." Harry said slowly, only realising the truth in the sentence as he said it, and his lips found Draco's, wordlessly moving together, and the familiar warmth and shape made Harry wanted to stay there forever.

.-.

Harry rose early as so to avoid further conflict with Ron, who he hoped may have come round to the idea of Harry being friends with Draco now he'd slept on it.

He was just slipping out of the dormitory when he heard a noise, and turned to see Dean prising himself out of Seamus's sleeping arms to pad across to Harry. Harry watched him warily.

"Listen, Harry mate, I just wanted to say-" he cautiously glanced back at Ron's sleeping form. "If you want to be mates with Malfoy then it's not everyone that's opposed to it. Luna told me at Shell Cottage that he kept sneaking down when she was imprisoned in the basement of Malfoy Manor, giving the prisoners extra food and water and stuff. So... I don't think he was really all bad, y'know?"

Harry nodded, unbelievably grateful that someone, at least, was on his side. Dean stared at the sleeping Seamus thoughtfully for a few seconds, before turning back to Harry.

"And Harry mate, if you and Malfoy are - er - considering anything more - don't take this the wrong way - but me and Seamus are behind you." he added quickly.

Harry stared at him, frozen with shock. What did Dean know?

"I- er- what made you think that?" he asked finally, his heart beating fast.

Dean shrugged. "I saw the way he stood next to you on the pitch. You don't angle yourself to be so... protective and possessive if there's not more involved."

Harry's eyes widened; had they really been that obvious? Seeing this, Dean hurried to speak again.

"I don't think anyone else noticed. Takes one to know one, know what I mean?"

Harry nodded gratefully, finding his voice once more.  
"Well it's early days yet, mate. But thanks."

Dean nodded and padded back to bed; Harry turned too and left the room, his head swirling with the knowledge that now a fourth person (and possibly fifth, Harry didn't know what Seamus knew) was aware of his and Draco's relationship. Shaking his head ruefully, he walked down to the early breakfast that was becoming an increasingly common occurrence.

Seeing as no one he knew well enough to care about was in the Great Hall, Harry did not care about sitting with Draco for breakfast once more.

They talked and joked easily, and Harry reflected briefly that life had never been like this with Cho or Ginny, and he somehow doubted he could ever find anyone who he both cared about to the extent he did with Draco, and could banter with him so well. Draco just felt, well, natural and _right_ for him.

Harry considered this whilst he fondly watched Draco daintily eat the bacon cut up into neat squares.

.-.

Draco looked up from his bacon to see Harry watching him with a look of what could possibly be adoration on his face, and gulped the rest of the piece down prematurely. He was quite unused to people looking at him like this; like he was their completion, like he was absolutely perfect.

His shock must have shown on his face because Harry's look disappeared quickly, to resort back to neutral. They looked at each other for a long second before Draco turned back to his plate, trying to ignore the arousal that had risen, unbidden. He risked a look up again to see Harry gazing at him, his eyes so _green_ and piercing, his face so damn handsome and hair so messy but bloody perfect, and Draco knew he couldn't fight it any longer.

"Come on." he muttered roughly, jumping to his feet and resisting the urge to soothe the ache between his legs.

Quiet footsteps behind him told him that Harry was following, and he quickly strode down the corridor, taking the familiar path to the labyrinth of dungeons. He steered Harry into a disused dungeon, miles from civilisation, and pushed him roughly against the door.

"Wh- mmpf!" Draco heard, as he crashed his mouth against Harry's, his body arching against his, rubbing his groin against his, desperately trying to release some of the tension there.

Their tongues danced an erotic dance in Harry's mouth, whilst Draco's cool hand crept under Harry's shirt, splaying out against his muscled chest, causing Harry to shiver and seize Draco harder-

-and then the world as Draco knew it ended because Harry's hand was skating along his waistband, tantalisingly close to just where Draco wanted it. Draco groaned and growled and mewled and moaned, arching beautifully into Harry's body as he insistently pushed his crotch into Harry's hand.

.-.  
Harry drew his lips away, grinning wickedly. His eyes hungrily roved over Draco's lips gleaming with Harry's saliva, arrogant cheekbones and beautifully cut jawline - yes, this was the face of an aristocrat, but an aristocrat gone awry because he was demanding sexual attention from another man in a disused classroom-

All thoughts of classrooms and aristocrats were cleared from his head as a pair of lips fastened to his neck and began sucking hungrily there, moving down and biting gently before finishing on his collarbone, where Harry felt a long, wet stripe being licked with an elegant tongue.

Harry gasped and looked down to see Draco's wide silver eyes, stormy with passion and lust, begging the fingers that Harry had looped though Draco's belt to go lower; and Harry gently brushed his fingers along Draco's pale midriff.

Draco shuddered, and strands of soft, white blonde hair fell across his forehead. Harry dipped his hand under the waistband of his underwear, and touched Draco tentatively. Draco's eyes flew wide before shuttering close in content, his lips lazily moving against Harry's.

Draco gave way and let go within seconds; and Harry was shown his gratitude in a very similar fashion, which he enjoyed immensely.

.-.  
As a consequence of their activites, Harry and Draco were in fact very late to their English lesson, and realised they would only be feeding the rumours by arriving very late in each other's company; Harry also knew it would do nothing to dispel Ron's bad feelings towards Harry and Draco's new found closeness.

But there was little they could do about it now, and they hurried in twenty minutes late, flushed with ruffled hair.

"Finally!" Professor Daley called out, clearly relieved, rushing forward. Harry and Draco stood awkwardly in the entrance of the room. Harry looked at Ron who was watching them with an empty expression.

"Here- you two, off stage now-" she said to a disappointed Seamus and Dean who seemed to be standing in for Harry and Draco in their absence. They walked off, and Harry and Draco took their place at Daley's indication. Neville was also on stage, and he gave Harry a sheepish smile.

"Right well we'll start the scene again now you've turned up, shall we?" said Professor Daley a little sharply, and they dug their scripts out of their bags.

"Scene six, boys, Friar Lawrence's cell."

Neville began reading as Friar Lawrence.  
"These violent delights have violent ends,"- Harry shivered - "and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness."

"Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot will never wear out the everlasting flint." Harry said, turning to look at Draco coolly walking forward, his lips slightly parted. Harry noticed, with some delight, some red marks on his pale expanse of neck, thanks to his ministrations.

"Good even to my ghostly confessor." he said softly.

"Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both." Neville said, trembling slightly at addressing Draco directly, after years of torment at Draco's hands.

"As much to him, else his thanks is too much." Draco said with a slight smirk at Neville, not looking up from his script.

"Unfold the imagined happiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter." Harry said, and his heart thumped a little faster with foolish excitement as he realised this was the marriage scene.

"Join hands." Neville said, and mutterings broke out around the room, no doubt people muttering about how Harry would probably enjoy holding hands with Draco Malfoy.

Draco quelled the room with one cold look, and defiantly took Harry's sweaty hands in his own cool white ones. They stood opposite each other, looking into each other's eyes, as the script indicated. Harry wished desperately to know what Draco was thinking.

"Romeo Montague, do you so take Juliet Capulet as your wedded wife?" Neville asked. Despite the strangeness of the situation, the room had fell silent, and all eyes were on the rehearsal.

"I do." Harry murmured. Draco was looking at him strangely; he looked almost conflicted between looking happy and look grieved. Harry frowned slightly and Draco read the question in it and shook his head slightly.

"And do you, Juliet Capulet, so take Romeo Montague as your wedded husband?"

"I do." Draco said in a low voice and then dropped Harry's hands and looked away; the scene had ended.

"Excellent! Just excellent! Very good acting boys, it was very believable! Nice use of volume!" Daley enthused, and Harry looked over at Ron to roll his eyes but then he remembered Ron wasn't talking to him he settled for Seamus instead.

"Now let's dissect what was said there; of course the Friar is advising moderation in love, not violent excess, because love in excess can be catastrophic..."

Her words echoed around the classroom has Harry stared at the pale tall boy who was looking at steadily him.

The pale tall Slytherin ex-Death Eater, ex-enemy who was fast becoming a permanent fixture at the centre of his universe.

Love in excess can be catastrophic...  
Oh yes, he loved Draco in excess.

**Gracias to Gavin Ampora, Gingerchild, Tenshi Yami Angel of Darkness, foxface333chocolatelabrador for their recommendations :)) **


	16. Chapter 16

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name  
Chapter Sixteen**

**_"And when two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

_**― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew**_

**...**

**_A/N: Upping the ante on this relationship..._**

The 'Ron' situation was not made any better by the scenes they acted out the next day in English; Ron's character Mercutio was killed, much to his irritation, but nevertheless he took great enjoyment from hissing "A plague above both your houses!" to Harry and Millicent Bulstrode who was playing Tybalt.  
Harry was rather under the impression Ron put more venom into the line than necessary.

Hermione was forever going between Ron and Harry, trying to coax the other to see sense but Harry continuously said adamantly that Ron was being completely unreasonable; he was perfectly within his rights to have any friend he wanted, and had Hermione noticed that any falling outs between the three always involved Ron? It was never him and Hermione.

And Draco, Harry knew was in two minds; torn between battling though the opposition against himself and Harry, and throwing in the towel and giving Harry his best friend back. Harry had worn himself out with the number of times he had insisted this was not an option.

They were having this discussion yet again one morning in early November after a particularly cold shoulder from Ron in English. Draco was inclined, once more, to give in.

"- it would surely be better for everyone involved if we called it a day, it was foolish to proceed in the first place-" Draco muttered quietly as they weaved through the corridor. They no longer received too many strange glances from walking together; the people of Hogwarts were now accustomed to the school's deadliest rivals now being otherwise.

Harry's heart sunk in disappointment; how could Draco be so willing to let go of their relationship? The mere thought of it made his chest constrict and his palms sweat uncontrollably.

"Well, if that's what you want..." he mumbled flatly, scuffing his shoes along the floor.

Draco surprised him by suddenly seizing his elbow in a vice-like grip.  
"No, Potter. It's not what I want. But if this is how your own _bestfriend_ acts at the news of us being _friends_, how do you think society will react us being," he surreptitiously glanced around. "-in a relationship?"

Harry's blood sang at the word 'relationship' falling from Draco's perfect lips, and he completely missed the beginning of Draco's next sentence.

"-death threats, I really wouldn't be surprised." he said, looking at Harry seriously. Harry blinked and tried to look as if he'd been listening.

"Good grief Potter, at least try and look as if you're listening!" he scowled, his dark eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't want to break up with you." Harry said firmly, noticing that the grip on his arm had not lifted yet.

Draco frowned. "Why not? We make no sense, Potter. We will receive nothing but hate; I can see the headline now - The Chosen One and the Death Eater-"

Harry silenced him by clamping a hand over his mouth. Draco's lips continued to move soundlessly against his fingers.  
Harry watched as Draco's expression softened from the frown, and he felt a pointy tongue dart out and lick his fingers. Harry smirked. The hard grip on his arm turned to a caress.

"I don't care what people say." he whispered. He was sick of Draco thinking society came first for Harry. "I lo-" he faltered and changed the choice of word at the speed of light- "I like you Draco. A lot." Draco arched one eyebrow. He still looked doubtful.

Harry rolled his eyes.  
"Follow me." He said, grabbing Draco's wrist and tugging him back the way they had come, to the common room.

"But- Charms-" Draco protested weakly, but Harry gave him a quelling look.

The common room was deserted as all the eight years were in lessons. Harry pulled a bewildered Draco up to his dormitory, and slammed the door once they were both inside, shoving Draco up against the wood roughly.

Draco opened his mouth to speak but Harry cut him off fiercely.

"No," Harry said, with enough coldness in his tone that Draco shut his mouth, though a spark of anger blazed in his eyes. "No. You will listen for once in your fucking life, Malfoy."

He grabbed the front of Draco's shirt and then he leaned down and kissed Draco with a passion and depth that they had never achieved before.

The kiss was so deep and hard that their teeth pressed into each other's lips and they split under the pressure and passion. Harry didn't care. In fact, he leaned further forwards, pressing Draco in the door roughly.

He wanted Draco to understand every bit of his anger, his lust, his determination and most of all his new found _love_.

When he pulled back, licking his lips, in savoury, he whispered into Draco's ear. He should have understood the meaning that ran beneath the kiss, but Harry would put it into words just so he couldn't miss it.

"You're not fucking giving up on us." he hissed, fueled with anger he didn't know he had. "Okay, Draco fucking Malfoy? Not this time. I won't let you."

"I won't." Draco gasped, as Harry bit his neck hard. "I won't, Potter. I couldn't anyway- I couldn't if I wanted to-"

Harry drew back from his neck to stare at the panting Draco, his lips wet and eyes shining. "Go on." he said in a dangerous tone.

"I couldn't, Harry." he said simply. "I care too much now, damnit. You stupid, silly Gryffindor. I know what I want, I always have done all my life. It's how I grew up.  
And it's you. Why can't you see that I'm bloody crazy for you? Goodness knows why." he added teasingly, but his eyes shone with beautiful honesty, and Harry's heart stopped, he knew it.

Draco gently gripped the back of his head, his hands snaking through Harry's wild hair, and pulled him in to place a gentle, sweet kiss on his lips, soothing the cuts from their  
fierce lip biting kiss earlier. It was a kiss full of promises and - did Harry dare hope- love?

Draco then fully took control, and Harry let him, completely submissive. Draco kissed all around his lips, placed gentle kisses on his nose and cheeks that made him shiver with desire, kissed his forehead and along his jawline in a tender way that Harry would never have expected from Draco Malfoy.

"Mine," Draco murmured as he planted each kiss.  
"Mine," he said as he kissed Harry's lips.  
"Mine," he proclaimed as he kissed his nose.  
"Mine," as he kissed his head.  
"All mine." he announced, as he looked Harry up and down.

"All yours." Harry agreed, eagerly pushing their lips together again.

.-.  
As if in correlation with their relationship, in English Romeo and Juliet's relationship was being took to the next level - as they had their wedding night.

Professor Daley, valiantly battling through the laughter which cascaded through the classroom when she announced the scene, was undecided as to how to present it.

"Of course the actual-" she flinched, "_Sexual_ stuff isn't acted out, but we need to imply it somehow..."

Draco was split between rolling his eyes and feeling incredibly excited. Implying sex between Harry and himself was something he was only too happy to do.

"I know!" Professor Daley announced, clapping her hands. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, can you come here like so... yes that's it..."

She seized their wrists and pulled them together. She then placed Harry's hand in Draco's. Draco daringly squeezed it, but she didn't notice. He noticed with delight however, that Harry blushed.

"Mr Potter I'd like you to tug Mr Malfoy off the stage like so, saying something along the lines of 'Shall we-?' Okay?"

Harry nodded, and Draco focused on him, tuning everyone else out easily. Daley backed away, and the whispers subsided.

Draco looked into Harry's handsome face and swallowed hard.  
"Shall we?" Harry murmured, facing him, his green eyes dancing, his face stained with blush in a way that made something uncurl from Draco's stomach, something like desire, because this was exactly like his wildest dreams-

And then Harry was gently pulling him away, his piercing eyes not looking away from his for a second. Draco willingly followed, of course he followed, he would follow this boy anywhere if he gave him that look and whispered "Shall we?"

But then in a matter of seconds it was over, and they had walked off the stage, and the moment was gone. Draco dropped Harry's hand, still staring in each other's eyes, and he knew without a doubt that Harry wanted this just as badly as he did.

Draco spent the remainder of the lesson watching the clock desperately, itching to leave and finally cure the sexual desire which was obscuring his thoughts and vision.

Finally, at long last it ran, and Draco leapt out of his seat before anyone else, overturning it in the process, and strode out of the room quickly, turning sharply outside the door to wait for Harry.

Harry was by his side within seconds, with Granger hovering anxiously behind and Weasley still shuffling out of sight in the classroom.

"Harry-?" Granger began when Draco seized Harry's robes and tugged him fiercely towards the common room instead of lessons for the second time that week.

"I've got him, Granger." Draco snapped, and she backed off slightly, the tension rolling off him in waves. Without bothering to hear her answer, he roughly tugged Harry to the common room, which was fortunately deserted once more.

That time they didn't even last until the dormitory.

.-.  
Draco fluidly pulled Harry's jumper off over his head and followed it swiftly with his own. Harry could only watch as the items of clothing flew through the air, joining each other on the floor. He opened his mouth, to say what he didn't know, but Draco fiercely captured it in his own and kissed with such an insistence that any other thought was obliterated from his mind. Harry seized as much of Draco in his arms as he could, as did Draco, entwining their bare bodies together.

Harry had never known pleasure like this; he wasn't even capable of forming words or coherent thoughts as their bodies rubbed together and both soothed and stimulated the ache between his legs. They collapsed backwards onto the sofa, the insistent pressure too much to handle upright, and Draco pushed himself up so that he was hovering over Harry, dropping hot, wet kisses onto his lips, neck, chest and continued down his body.

.-.

It was a sight he would never, ever forget if he lived to be a hundred. Draco Malfoy, his head thrown back to the ceiling, flushed and panting and screaming Harry's name at the top of his lungs, and then finally looking down at him through lust- hazed grey eyes, his pale chest that Harry couldn't take his eyes off shiny with sweat and Harry's saliva.

He gently lowered himself off his hovering stance, pulling out from Harry before falling back on top of him, their sated, sweaty bodies rubbing together pleasantly.

Harry felt his eyelids drift dangerously close together.  
"Harry, you mustn't." Draco murmured above him, and Harry vaguely marveled at his ability to even form words after that.

"Class will finish soon. We need to get cleaned up-" Harry could just hear the smirk in his voice. "-and dressed before lunch."

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes opening as he kissed Draco again, unable to resist those lips when they were in proximity to his. Class may finish soon but he could lie here forever.

**okay so I had to restrain from writing an M-rated version of this chapter because although that would portray the pent up feelings of want finally being released a lot better, this is a T story and I didn't want to tread on any toes. So I managed to convey what happened well without being too explicit. **

**The gist is they had sex and it was very good ok**


	17. Chapter 17

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**_"My only love sprung from my only hate."_**

**_― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet_**

Days blurred into weeks which transitioned into months, and by Christmas the eighth year's production of Romeo and Juliet was well underway.

With the exception of Hermione, the population remained oblivious to Harry and Draco's new closeness, which was developing into a fully fledged, intoxicating and addictive relationship. Harry found that his fascination and attraction concerning Draco had not weakened or diluted over time, but only strengthened almost worryingly.

It took only a smile from Draco to melt Harry's heart, and cause him to temporarily lose track of what was going on around him.

Their relationship, however, was not all soppy kisses and smiles, it was firmly built upon snide remarks and sarcastic retorts, the casual teasing comfortable yet enough to keep both boys on their toes. They were both fiery enough to disagree majorly at least once a day, and Harry had lost count of how many arguments they'd had.

But at the end of the day, he still found himself sneaking off with Draco, clutching each other tightly as if they were all the other had in the world.

.-.

Now expected to know all their lines off by heart, Harry and Draco were spending a large portion of their time learning their Romeo and Juliet scripts for the daily rehearsals.

Which is where they could be found one Saturday afternoon in mid December, closeted in Harry's bedroom whilst his roommates were out at Hogsmeade.

They were sat opposite each other, cross legged on the bed, their scrips nestled in their laps. Harry was frequently being distracted every time the wintry sun emerged from behind a cloud and fell on Draco, making him look silvery and ethereal. Draco, in turn, was occasionally caught staring dazedly at Harry.

"Then, window, let day in, and let life out." Draco recited from memory, now able to perform and still maintain eye contact with Harry the whole time. Harry thought the effect was rather convincing, and had a sneaking suspicion that they'd pull off the act of an in-love couple very well.

"Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend." Harry all but purred, and Draco gave him a blazing look as he leant in to administer a kiss to Harry.

Strictly speaking the kiss was supposed to be half a second long, but Draco and Harry's lips remained long after that, a tender, sweet kiss with hands running through hair and down backs, cupping backs of necks to draw the other closer still, moans escaping-

The door slammed open.  
Harry and Draco hurriedly leapt apart, with such a force that Harry completely overbalanced and fell off the bed. Cringing, he lifted his head fractionally from the dusty floor to see who had walked in.

It was Ron, with a reddening face and ears. Harry gulped and scrambled to his feet.

"Yes?" Draco asked him with an admirably irritable sneer.

Ron made a sort of choking noise, his eyes rapidly flicking between Harry and Draco.

"Ron-" Harry began weakly, but Ron backed away hastily, before turning completely on his heel and dashing down the circular stairs.

Draco turned to Harry with a rueful smile most unlike the irritable, arrogant mask he'd been wearing moments ago.

"That went well." he commented lightly, moving to Harry's side in one fluid motion, caressing him comfortingly.

Harry merely looked at him hopelessly.

"I should go." Draco whispered, rapidly placing a feather light kiss on his lips and vanishing silently.

Harry waiting a few moments before dashing after Ron.

.-.

Ron was slumped low in a chair by the fire, the dancing flames reflected in his wide, blank eyes.

"Ron, I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong-" Hermione was saying imploringly. Harry appeared quietly behind her.

"I know." he murmured, and she jumped.

"Harry! What-" she caught his apologetic, rueful look and realised instantly.

"Oh, Harry." she sighed, her expression clearing as she turned back to Ron.

"Ron?" she asked in a cautious, tentative voice. "Are you ok, Ron?"

Ron blinked suddenly and pointed a shaky finger at Harry.

"Hermione - he was with Malfoy- _kissing_-" he broke off, apparently unable or unwilling to continue.

Hermione placed a concerned hand on his knee. Ron stared at it.

"I know," she said quietly, grimacing slightly.

Ron's eyes widened in anger, the helplessness seeping from him.

"You- you've known all this time?!" he gasped, his face turning red at a worryingly fast rate.

Hermione swapped alarmed expressions with Harry and tried a different tact.

"Harry's our best friend Ron- surely you can just accept who he's chosen to be with, if it makes him happy? For Harry's sake-?"

Ron sat in silence, the colour fading from his otherwise unreadable face.

"Yeah, maybe." he said finally, and Harry let out a thankful sigh of relief.  
"I'm not okay with it!" he added sharply, glancing up at the noise.

"I know-" Harry began, but he was interrupted.

"I mean Malfoy, Harry? He's a slimy, arrogant git! He's tormented you for years! Why him?"

It was now Harry's turn to lapse into a thoughtful silence.

"He was the only one that could really provoke a reaction from me, get properly under my skin." he said thoughtfully to no one in particular.

"And I was the only one that made him break his icy exterior and actually bothered him. We've always... Invoked strong reactions in each other. We just channeled them... wrongly. It just took a romantic Muggle play to make us see that."

Ron shook his head in disbelief, but said nothing more.  
"Thanks," Harry murmured gratefully to Hermione, out of Ron's earshot.  
She gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and smiled.

.-.

Draco was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, but it was one of the few times that Harry was not. He was instead going to the Burrow, something he had mixed feelings about for the first time in his life.

Partially because he was loathe to be apart from Draco; he missed him when they were in different lessons, never mind a three week holiday. But also because he anticipated any length of time spent with Ginny Weasley with trepidation.

It appeared she still retained _some_ of the old fiery spirit Harry missed; she just channelled it in ways he disliked, such as trying to win him back.

She was constantly striking up conversations with him, which was acceptable of course, but they would become increasingly flirtatious and suggestive on her side.

She had also picked up an irritating habit of dumbing herself down when she was talking to him, and acting silly. It had the opposite of the desired effect; he just appreciated Draco and his witty cleverness all the more.

On the day they left for the Burrow, Draco appeared at the door of the dormitory once Dean, Seamus and Neville had left. Ron followed soon after with an angry _hmph_. Harry was within Draco's arms in a heart beat.

He couldn't face the thought of leaving this pale, beautiful boy behind, and go and spend Christmas in a rowdy house.

"Goodbye," Draco said in a muffled voice. Harry drew back to look at said boy nestled between his arms. He had changed so much since even the beginning of this year. Draco had been snappy, arrogant, annoying, and Harry hadn't been able to stand him.

Of course he was still all those things now, but that was only the icy exterior he extended towards those he did not trust. Now Draco fully trusted him, Harry could now appreciate the intelligent, funny _human_ underneath, who had had such a terrible life so far.

He was reminded of something Professor Daley had said a few weeks ago in English.

_"Do we feel more sorry for Romeo, or for Juliet? Romeo is the one who makes all the choices, makes such an effort, and yet still ends up being killed. Surely we sympathise with him?_

_But Juliet? Juliet couldn't make any choices. Juliet had no choice. And that ultimately, is the most desperately sad thing of all."_

And Harry had been struck with the great irony. His character had been the one who made a concerted effort, made all his own choices. Like him.

Draco's character had no choices to make whatsoever. They were taken away from her, resulting in her downfall.

Exactly like Draco had had no choice. They had been taken away from him, and lead to his downfall.

Oh yes, there is a very great irony that made Harry fully suspect that there _was_ a God somewhere. A God who delighted in placing two straight boys, worst enemies, and making them act gay together in a parody of their own lives.

Opposing houses, fighting against all likelihood and going together, both with little or no choice.

.-.

As Harry predicted, Christmas at the Weasleys's was raucous and cheerful, hampered only by the fact that it was the first Christmas without Fred. Mrs Weasley's outburst of sobbing at the table rather soured the festive mood, and Harry went to bed extremely earlier, claiming tiredness.

As he walked into Ron's orange decked bedroom, he found an owl waiting for him outside the window. His spirits lifted considerably and a small, secret smile crept unbidden onto his lips.

He hurried to let the regal eagle owl in.

"Hi, Arcturus." he murmured, smoothing the owl's feathers. It made him feel strangely upset yet happy, seeing a little reminder of Draco in Ron's bedroom.

He hurriedly took the creamy parchment from the owl's beak and opened the letter with a small bubble of happiness welling in his chest. It was so nIcE to have someone who belonged to him, and cared for him as Draco did. His thoughts wandered both he hastily reigned them in and read the precious letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I will not tell you how much I miss you for fear of sounding like a pathetic, soppy Gryffindor, but you must know that it is a lot, if I even have to make that comparison._

_For I do miss you. It is only when you are gone that I realise how much I depend on you for even the little things; I found myself despairing over my DADA homework without you, missing someone to converse with at breakfast and in the evenings. I am rendered quite friendless without you._

_I am a Slytherin and a Malfoy, so naturally I am doubly loathe to express my feelings explicitly, so I will allow Shakespeare to speak for me, if you will permit the plagiarism._

_Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine._

_(You are my Romeo)  
Draco Malfoy_

**I have the first chapter of a new story ready to go, however I am reluctant to upload it whilst ****_Clarity_**** is still finding it's feet - but I will post the story summary in the author notes of the end of the next chapter. :)  
**

**oh my god, so I just checked the views on this story and they have _swelled _and have even overtook those of _A Match Made in Hell_, which is at least 10K+ words longer and completed. So basically I'm trying to say thank you to all of you for sticking with this story**

**if you want to tell me why, I dearly love reviews, you know**

**p.s the question about who you feel more sympathetic towards, Romeo or Juliet and the fact that Juliet had no choice actually stemmed from my English lesson today, in which we have ironically started to study Romeo and Juliet. We also watched the 1996 Romeo and Juliet, and can I just say - Leonardo diCaprio ...**


	18. Chapter 18

**A Malfoy By Any Other Name  
Chapter Eighteen**

**_"And when two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury."_**

_**― William Shakespeare, Taming Of The Shrew**_

"Tell me again why you had to go in the first place?" Draco asked from somewhere above him.

Harry lifted his head from Draco's robed stomach, where it had been lying, to look at him.

"You know why," he reprimanded softly. "Mrs Weasley is like a mother to me. I couldn't let her down, even if Ron and I aren't exactly on speaking terms."

"Hmph." Draco huffed, staring up at the green hangings above their head.

"I came back for you," Harry reminded him gently. Draco's expression softened; he looked away from the hangings and fixed his clear eyes on Harry.

"I know," he mumbled, absently fiddling with Harry's hair. "Wasn't Weasel irritated with you for leaving early?" he asked suddenly, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged against Draco's ribs. "Probably. But it was too gloomy there, and I'm eighteen now. I can spend New Years where I want."

"How rebellious." Draco murmured teasingly, and Harry punched him softly, before crawling up to kiss him fervently.

"When did I get so obsessed with you?" Harry mumbled against his lips. Draco drew back, smirking.

"Hm... Maybe sixth year?" he suggested, smiling sweetly. Harry gaped.

"You knew about that?"

"Per-lease Harry, give me credit. There wasn't an hour in the day in which you weren't following me. I wasn't completely oblivious." Draco shook his head in mock disapproval, and Harry scowled, drawing back to sit astride him, too far away to kiss.

"You're adorable when you scowl at me, Potter." Draco smirked, unable to refrain from teasing him further.

"You should know, I've scowled at you for eight years." Harry muttered darkly.

"And you've been just as adorable each of those eight years." Draco replied, and realised he may have let on more than he wished. Harry was not aware of exactly how long he'd loved him. He swiftly fisted Harry's robes and pulled him into a rough kiss, desperately trying to drive all else from Harry's mind.

It didn't work, but he didn't need to know that.

But for now, the thought was temporarily left untouched, as Draco and Harry pursued other pleasurable activities. Being together, truly _together_, joined as one, was unlike anything either had ever known. It was the single best experience of their lives, and only got better each time.

The pleasure was so blinding on this particular afternoon that Harry's mouth hissed words of it's own accord in Parselmouth as he came; primarily _Draco_ _Malfoy_, interspersed with profanities.

Draco, who did not know he had a Parselmouth fetish until that moment, found the sound so erotic he came as he had never done before.

"You're bloody sexy." he told Harry fervently afterwards.

His normally perfect blonde hair was in all disarray, matted with sweat, but he did not care, as he gently pressed his forehead against Harry's.

.-.

Harry crept away just before breakfast, and although Draco was sad to be parted from him at the time, this turned out to be a very good thing.

He was just sliding out of bed, running a rueful hand over his pale stomach, slightly crusty with certain dried liquids, when he glimpsed an owl flying straight for his window.

He frowned; he never received any mail, there was no one left to write to him. And anything non-personal would surely arrive at breakfast with the morning mail.

He opened the tower window with some apprehension, and the unfamiliar owl flew in.

Wondering vaguely if the letter was intended for Nott, not him, he gently tugged it from the owl's beak.

_Draco Malfoy_, the envelope read.

Frowning now, he took his wand and used it to slit the envelope open. He unfolded the parchment and read the first two words.

His heart stopped, and he found his knees giving way, falling to the bed behind him.

_Toujours pur_.

Only members of the Black family started their letters with those words. As far as Draco had been aware, they were all dead - his aunt Bellatrix, his mother, his second cousins Sirius and Regulus, and surely the estranged Andromeda would not start a letter like this...?

_Do not be alarmed_, the letter read. _It is widely believed that I am imprisoned, but this is untrue. I escaped imprisonment two years ago, but only just. I hid myself well, knowing I would not be helping my Lord if I strayed into the public eye once more._

_Consequently I missed the Battle, and his unfortunate downfall. But he has not died in vain, permit me to reassure you._

_Draco, you are my family and I know you must be feeling alone at this time. I will help. You failed your mission for the Dark Lord two years ago, yes? I will present you with an opportunity you have surely been craving, for you to make up for it, return honour to the family name._

_I recently heard from sources that you are in close contact with Harry Potter, even performing with in a filthy Muggle play; this is good. I am glad you have kept in his good books, gained Potter's trust. You truly are your father's son._

_Now we can use this to our advantage. On the night of your performance to the public, I shall be there. After the show, take him out to the grounds. I will arrange with you where at a later date. I will meet you both there, and Potter shall finally be rid of, after all this time._

_The Dark Lord will not have died in vain, I swear it. You __**cannot**__ fail again Draco; you have failed the Dark Lord once, it is now my duty in your parents's absence to see you will not do so again. You may be family, but I will not hesitate in disposing of you if you fail once more._

_Bear this in mind and owl me back immediately. Tell no one._

_Rodolphus Lestrange_

.-.

When Draco did not appear for breakfast, Harry was instantly worried. He was momentarily distracted, however, by mail from Hermione, wishing him a happy New Year. She was prompt as always - it was only New Year's Eve.

Harry returned to the common room anxiously, scenarios chasing round in his head, each as wild as the next.

"Draco?" he called the minute his foot had touched the stone floor of the common room.

"Yeah... here." he finally heard a muffled voice reply, and he took off hastily in its direction.

Draco was slumped on top of his emerald bed, his face in his hands. At the sound of Harry's approaching footsteps, he sat up hurriedly, ignoring the head rush which followed.

"Why didn't you come to break... what's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously, noticing the drawn look on Draco's face.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Draco said shortly, walking past Harry to the door.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to-"

"Just leave it, Potter!" Draco snapped, striding smartly out of the room with his head held arrogantly high as usual.

"Draco-?" Harry called after him, angry hurt colouring his tone.

"Just-" Draco bit back his retort. "Leave me _alone_, okay?" he strode out of the tower without waiting for Harry's reply.

.-.

Professor Flitwick had produced his usual exemplary batch of fireworks, and they were due to start any time now. Harry stood with the other dozen or so students on the lawn - all but Draco, that was.

It was nearly midnight, and the fireworks were charmed to signal the changing of the year. Harry shivered against the cold; wishing he'd brought his cloak. Or perhaps it would have been wiser to stay inside, find Draco...

Not that Draco would have wanted to talk to him, he thought miserably, hugging himself to protect from the biting cold.

"Can I help?" A voice asked sweetly in his ear, mimicking and teasing but full of apology.

Harry whipped around; a tall, pale boy was standing behind Harry, his hands thrust ruefully into his pockets, a pale but flushed face staring down at him, a lopsided smile playing around curved lips.  
Harry threw his arms around the slender neck and pushed his cold, chapped lips onto a pair of equally cold lips; at the touch fireworks exploded around them, the sky lit up with red and green, bathing the boys in its weak, colourful light.

"Happy New Year," Draco mumbled into the smiling lips, and not caring who was watching, he threaded his hands through Harry's ebony hair and melded their bodies together, warm bodies wrapped together in the cold, separated only fractionally by a letter in Draco's breast pocket.

**_*PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT*  
I am very eager and willing to be a beta to anyone and everyone who has a HP story and wishes to have someone beta it - no matter how short or long, no matter what time if the day it is just PM me and it will get onto it. Seriously, don't hesitate at all._**

**oh I'm so sorry for the lateness of this, I really am, it's just sometimes I post every two days and every once in a while it may lapse to two weeks. I hate myself for it, and I promise that it will not happen again**

**it isn't even as if this has been in the works for 2 weeks, but only 1 hour and 20 minutes last night. **

**Soooo, leave me a review on this chapter because reviews of all shapes and sizes are relished. Really.**


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